^ 

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IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-S) 


/y 


J 


Z 


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y. 


7 


V 


11.25 


121 


^m 


■  2.2 

us 

U 


Li    12.0 


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Hiotographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(71&)  872-4503 


^ 

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CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Notes  techniques  et  bibliographiques 


The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best 
original  copy  available  for  filming.  Features  of  this 
copy  which  may  be  bibliographically  unique, 
which  may  alter  any  of  the  images  in  the 
reproduction,  or  which  may  significantly  change 
the  usual  method  of  filming,  are  checked  below. 


0 


D 


K 


D 


Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  couleur 


I      I    Covers  damaged/ 


Couverture  endommagde 

Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaurde  et/ou  pellicul6e 

Cover  title  missing/ 

Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 

Coloured  maps/ 

Cartes  g^ographiques  en  couleur 


□    Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 


□    Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 
Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 


D 


Bound  with  other  material/ 
Reli6  avec  d'autres  documents 

Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin/ 

La  re  liure  serr6e  peut  causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la 
distortion  le  long  de  la  marge  intirieure 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restoration  may 
appear  within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
11  se  peut  que  certaines  pages  blanches  ajout^es 
lors  d'une  restauration  apparaissent  dans  le  texte, 
mais,  lorsque  cela  6tait  possible,  ces  pages  n'ont 
pas  6t6  film^es. 

Additional  comments:/ 
Commentaires  supplAmentaires: 


L'Institut  a  microfilm^  le  meilleur  exemplaire 
qu'il  lui  a  6t6  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details 
de  cet  exemplaire  qui  sont  peut-dtre  uniques  du 
point  de  vue  bibliographique.  qui  peuvent  modifier 
une  image  reproduite,  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une 
modification  dans  la  m^thode  normale  de  filmage 
sont  indiqu6s  ci-dessous. 


I     I   Coloured  pages/ 


D 


Pages  de  couleur 

Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endommag^es 

Pages  restored  and/oi 

Pages  restauries  et/ou  pellicul6es 

Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxei 
Pages  d6color6es,  tacheties  ou  piqu6es 

Pages  detached/ 
Pages  d^tachdes 

Showthroughy 
Transparence 

Quality  of  prir 

Quality  inigaie  de  I'impress^jn 

includes  supplementary  materit 
Comprend  du  materiel  suppiimentaire 

Only  edition  available/ 
Seuie  Mition  disponibie 


I — I    Pages  damaged/ 

□    Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Pages 

r~^    Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 

□    Pages  detached/ 
Pages 

r^  Showthrough/ 

I      I  Quality  of  print  varies/ 

I      I  includes  supplementary  material/ 

I — I  Only  edition  available/ 


Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
slips,  tissues,  etc.,  have  been  ref limed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image/ 
Les  pages  totalement  ou  partiellement 
obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'errata,  une  pelure, 
etc.,  ont  M  fiim^es  d  nouveau  de  fapon  d 
obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  fiimA  au  taux  de  rMuction  indiqu6  ci-dessous 

10X                           14X                            18X                           22X 

26X 

30X 

y 

12X 

16X 

20X 

MX 

28X 

32X 

The  copy  filmed  here  has  been  reproduced  thanks 
to  the  generosity  of: 

National  Library  of  Canada 


L'exemplaire  fllmd  fut  reproduit  grAce  d  la 
g6n6ro8lt6  de: 

BIbliothdque  nationale  du  Canada 


The  images  appearing  here  are  the  best  quality 
possible  considering  the  condition  and  legibility 
of  the  original  copy  and  in  keeping  with  the 
filming  contract  specifications. 


Les  images  suivantes  ont  6t^  reproduites  avec  !e 
plus  grand  soin,  compte  tenu  de  la  condition  et 
de  la  netteti  de  l'exemplaire  filmd,  et  en 
conformity  avec  les  conditions  du  contrat  de 
filmage. 


Original  copies  in  printed  paper  covers  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  and  ending  on 
the  last  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
other  original  copies  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
first  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  printed 
or  illustrated  impression. 


Les  exemplaires  originaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  est  imprim6e  sont  filmes  en  commenpant 
par  le  premier  plat  et  en  terminant  soit  par  la 
dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration,  soit  par  le  second 
plat,  selon  le  cas.  Tous  les  autres  exemplaires 
originaux  sont  film6s  en  commen^ant  par  la 
premidre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  — »-  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  the  symbol  V  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  applies. 


Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparaftra  sur  la 
dernidre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbole  — ►  signifie  "A  SUIVRE  ",  le 
symbole  V  signifie  "FIN". 


Maps,  plates,  charts,  etc.,  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  §tre 
film6s  i  des  taux  de  reduction  diff6rents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  dtre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  clich6,  il  est  film6  d  partir 
de  Tangle  supdrieur  gauche,  de  gauche  d  droite, 
et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  n^cessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  m^thode. 


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FROM   THE 


PORT    FOLIO 


OF  A   LATE 


PATRIOT    PRISONER    IN    CANADA. 


"  Not  Fame  I  alight—nor  for  her  favours  call ; 
She  comes  uiilooked  for,  if  she  comes  at  all.'* 


NEW    YORK: 
WILLIAM   H.    COLYER,    PRINTER, 

NO.    5,    HAatrE-STREET. 


1840. 


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11 


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Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  one 
thousand  eight  hundred  and  forty,  by 

TH :  JEFFERSON  SUTHERLAND, 
in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  Southern  District  of 
New- York, 


1^-  > 


!' 


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4: 


r  Lord  on« 


District  of 


C( 

PI  EC 

)NTENTS. 

i 

ES    IN    PROSE. 

1 

i 

Advertisement. : 

Page  5 

i 

A  Sketch 

9 

The  Cotillon  Party 

37 

Appendix  to  the  Captive  Patriot. 

.       46 

1       ' 

The  Patron  of  Bubble  Port 

73 

t              I 

A  Fragment 

07 

^    ■ 

Incidents  of  a  Stage-coach 

109 

f 

A  Celebration  of  American  Independence. 

131 

.J-i 

The  Mistaken  Bride.         ..... 

.     145 

f 

The  Lawyer's  Apology 

.     188 

t  1 

Luck  and  111  Luck 

.     206           1 

( 

POETRY.                                                                              i 

i' 

Sonnet  on  Quebec 30 

1' 

Address  to  the  Sun. 

* 

31 

1 

Sacred  Song.    . 

.       35 

i 

The  Captive  Patriot. 

• 

1 

44 

Woman. 

• 

.       70 

Woman's  Smile. 

k                         < 

» 

72 

Address  to  a  Linnet. 

• 

.       86 

W 

Christmas  Hymn. 

» 

89 

1 

The  Maniac  Girl. 

1 

.       91 

1 

Ode  for  the  Fourth  of  July 

1 

•                        • 

1 

1                 ■« 

93 

% 

To  my  Aching  Tooth. 

< 

A                         • 

95 

1 

The  Course  of  Evil. 

• 

•                         «                        J 

1 

*                 < 

.     1  5 

it 

iv                                                 CONTENTS. 

A  Sonof  of  Love 

Pago  IOC 

An  Inscription — on  the  leaf  of  a  Bible. 

.     107 

Stanzas — written  in  a  Lady's  Album. 

.     126 

Epitaph — for  the  Tomb  of  a  Child.     . 

.     127 

The  Soldier  to  his  Blanket 

.     128 

Impromptu.       ....... 

.     130 

Epitaph — for  the  Tomb  of  a  Soldier. 

lb. 

Bite — the  worst.        ...... 

.     140 

My  Tailor 

.     141 

Black-eyed  Maryett.          ..... 

.     143 

Stanzas — written  in  a  Lady's  Album. 

.     144 

Lines 

.     184 

The  False  Maiden 

.     186 

Lafayette.         ....... 

.     204 

Stanzas.             ........ 

.     214 

To  the  First  Flake  of  Snow 

;     215 

Pago  IOC 

.  107 

.  IW 

.  127 

.  128 

.  13a 
lb. 

.  140 

.  HI 

.  143 

.  144 

.  184 

.  186 

.  204 

.  214 

;  215 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


''  In  December,  1838,1  was  detained  in  the  Citadel  of 
Quebec,  L.  C,  as  a  Prisoner  of  State,  by  the  British 
Government. 

I  had  been  subjected  to  a  trial  by  a  court  martial  in 
Upper  Canada ;  under  the  sentence  of  which  court  it 
was  pretended  I  was  held  as  a  prisoner — notwithstand- 
ing, upon  my  appeal,  the  proceedings  of  the  court  were 
I  declared  to  have  been  irregular,  by  Her  Majesty's  Go- 
I  vernment  in  England,  and  on  that  ground,  as  I  was  in- 
formed, it  had  been  ordered  that  I  should  be  set  at  li- 
berty and  permitted  to  return  to  my  own  country. 

I  had  addressed  Lord  Durham,  while  Governor  Ge- 
neral of  the  Canadas ;  Lord  Glenelg,  Her  Majesty's 
Secretary  of  State  for  the  Colonies,  in  London ;  and 
the  Lieutenant  Governor  of  Upper  Canada — objecting 
to  the  grounds  of  my  detention,  and  complaining  of  the 
treatment  to  which  I  was  subjected — but  to  no  purpose. 
My  communications  to  the  functionaries  of  Her  Majes- 
ty's Government  were  disposed  of  in  the  pigeon-holes 

A2 


it 


I 


6 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


of  their  several  oflicos,  and  I  in  one  of  tlic  casemates 
of  tlu;  Citadel,  where,  I  hccame  satisfied,  I  might  re- 
luiin  until  the  walls  of  Quebec  should  bo  battered  down 
bv  the  cannon  of  some  successfid  band  of  "  the  Sons 
of  hihcriij^^  unless  I  could  procure  more  notice  to  be 
taken  of  my  case  than  I  was  likely  to  obtain  by  merely 
sending  my  letters  to  the  Colonial  Ofliee  in  Downing- 
street.  Therefore,  with  the  hope  of  bringing  my  case 
to  some  favourable  notice,  I  commenced  the  issue  of  a 
series  of  papers  under  the  title  of  the  "  Stadacona  Ga- 
zette^^  written  with  my  pen  in  a  manner  to  represent  a 
printed  newspaper.  These  papers  were  made  to  con- 
tain extracts  from  my  letters  in  review  of  my  case — 
and  the  pieces  which  will  compose  this  volume.  All 
of  the  articles  in  prose,  and  the  most  of  those  in  poe- 
try, w^ere  written  expressly  for  the  "  Stadacona  Ga- 
zcttc,^^  and  had  their  origin  with  my  imprisonment. 

At  Quebec,  I  was  in  the  custody  of  Sir  James  Mac- 
donell,  Major  General,  commanding  a  brigade  of  Her 
Majesty's  household  troops,  then  stationed  at  that  place 
- — and  the  officers  and  soldiers  of  a  part  of  this  brigade, 
the  Coldstream  Guards,  which  were  then  quartered  in 
the  Citadel,  had  the  immediate  charge  of  my  person. 
The  commandants  of  companies  in  this  regiment,  (who 
are  of  the  rank  of  Lieutenant  Colonel  in  the  army,) 
are,  in  general,  men  of  high  standing  and  character  in 


I 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


casemates 
might  re- 
3red  down 
the  Sons 
tice  to  be 
^)y  merely 
Downing- 
\  my  case 
ssue  of  a 
'cona  Ga- 
present  a 
e  to  con- 
|y  case — 
me.     All 
B  in  poe- 
"ona  Ga- 
lent. 

les  Mac- 
i  of  Her 
^at  place 
brigade, 
•tered  in 
person, 
nt,  (who 
I  army,) 
racter  in 


the  Britishnation — many  of  them  having  been  members 
of  the  Imperial  Parliament,  and  the  holders  of  other  poli- 
tical stations  in  their  country.  The  jimior  oflicers 
are  mostly  of  the  nobility — lords  themselves,  or  the 
sons  and  broth(irs  of  lords.  With  these  people  I 
had  some  opportunity  of  becoming  acquainted,  and 
their  universally  courteous  deportment  and  kind  atten- 
tion to  me  while  a  prisoner  in  their  hands,  have  esta- 
blished large  claims  upon  my  gratitude :  yet  to  ask  their 
direct  interference  in  my  behalf  with  the  government 
was  a  matter  of  delicacy  on  my  part — and  extr^^mely 
so,  on  theirs,  to  comply  with  such  a  request ;  as  the 
moment  any  of  them  should  have  been  known  to  be 
acting  as  my  agent  in  the  matter,  they  would  have  been 
subject  to  denunciations  and  aspersions  from  the  people 
of  the  Canadas,  who  are  the  "  blood  and  carnage"  ad- 
herents of  the  British  Government — but  my  "  Gazettes  J"* 
(which  were  read  by  many  in  the  Citadel,)  were  made 
a  means  of  communication  that  could  not  possibly  sub- 
ject the  officers  to  censure  who  were  disposed  to  inte- 
rest themselves  in  my  behalf ;  and  who  took  the  papers 
and  forwarded  them  to  those  in  power,  (as  a  kind  of  li- 
terary curiosity,)  with  whom  they  were  made  to  have 
the  desired  effect  of  producing  my  liberation. 

1  claim  but  little  merit  for  these  compositions  ;  and 
as  they  are  my  first  attempts  at  scribbling,  and  conse- 


\\ 


I'll 


8 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


),       ?!l 


quently  devoid  of  that  character  and  interest  which  be- 
long to  the  works  of  more  perfect  writers,  peradven- 
ture,  my  friends  will  say,  "  I  might  as  well  have  left 
them  in  my  Port  Folio."  Nevertheless,  as  they  have 
done  me  one  good  turn,  I  have  concluded  to  venture 
them  for  another. 

New- York,  January  8,  1840. 


t 


U^ 


U  t 


which  be- 
peradven- 
have  left 
they  have 
venture 


A   SKETCH. 


t. 


'■tit.. 


I  AM,  myself,  a  native  born  citizen  of  the  United 
States — and  at  the  commencement  of  the  civil  commo- 
tions in  the  Provinces  of  the  Canadas,  was  a  resident 
of  one  of  the  frontier  counties  of  the  state  of  New- 
York.  Then  believing,  as  I  did,  that  the  people  of  the 
Canadas  were  about  to  make  a  hearty  struggle  for  Li- 
berty— and  being  moved  by  a  feeling  of  sympathy, 
which  must  ever  be  awakened  in  every  truly  Ameri- 
can bosom  for  any  people  who  are  in  arms  for  the  pur- 
pose of  ridding  themselves  from  the  oppression  of  fo- 
reign rulers — I  joined  a  body  of  armed  men,  then  in 
possession  of  Navi/  Island,  in  the  Province  of  Upper 
Canada,  for  the  purpose  of  giving  my  aid,  as  a  military 
officer,  in  establishing  an  Independent  Republican  form 
of  Government  in  the  Canadas,  instead  of  the  wretched 
Colonial  System  maintained  therein  by  the  British  Go- 
vernment. 

At  the  time,  (December,  1837,)  almost  the  whole  peo- 
ple of  the  frontiers  of  the  United  States  had  assumed 


10 


A  SKETCH. 


an  attitude  of  deep  interest  toward  the  result  of  the 
contest  which  was  thought  to  have  been  begun — and 
very  many  of  our  American  citizens  then  seemed  to 
think  it  a  duty  to  give  personal  aid  to  those  people  of 
the  Canadas  whom  they  conceived  to  be  struggling  for 
the  same  principles  which  had  led  our  fathers  to  the 
field  in  1776 — and  entertaining  such  feelings  in  common 
with  my  countrymen,  at  the  solicitation  of  a  number  of 
the  Canadian  Revolutionists,  I  embarked  in  their  cause. 

After  remaining  with  the  force  on  Navy  Island  a 
short  time,  I  was  sent  by  the  persons  under  whose  or- 
ders I  had  acted  to  the  Detroit  frontier,  with  instruc- 
tions to  take  the  command  of  a  Patriot  force  which  was 
being  imbodied  in  that  vicinity,  for  the  purpose  of  co- 
operating with  the  force  then  on  Navy  Island  ;  and  on 
the  8th  day  of  January,  1838,  I  arrived  on  the  Detroit 
River,  where  I  found  a  considerable  force  imbodied,  with 
which  I  remained  until  the  10th  day  of  the  same  month, 
when  I  retired  therefrom,  and  proceeded  to  the  city  of 
Detroit. 

The  winter  had  then  so  far  advanced,  and  the  time 
of  the  year  arrived,  which,  in  latitude  42®  north,  gene- 
rally affords  plenty  of  snow,  brisk  sleighing,  and  keen 
cold  weather;  yet  the  season  had  continued  so  re- 
markably mild  that  the  earth  still  remained  as  dark  and 
naked  as  ordinarily  was  its  aspect  in  the  month  of  No- 


vj 

t! 

si 


nmwo 


t 


A  SKETCH. 


11 


esult  of  the 
begun — and 

seemed  to 
e  people  of 
ruggling  for 
hers  to  the 
i  in  common 
I  number  of 
their  cause. 
y  Island  a 

whose  or- 
th  instruc- 
tvhich  was 
ose  of  co- 
J ;  and  on 
le  Detroit 
died,  with 
ne  month, 
le  city  of 

the  time 
th,  gene- 
nd  keen 
so  re- 
lark  and 
of  No- 


vember. The  face  of  nature  might  have  been  well  pic- 
tured by  the  representation  of  an  old  man  tottering  up- 
on the  verge  of  a  grave — still  living — but  cold  and 
shivering,  and  looking  as  icy  as  the  narrow  trench  into 
which  he  was  about  to  fall.  There  had  been  but  one 
flurry  of  snow,  of  a  trifling  quantity,  and  that,  as  it  had 
fallen,  had  been  immediately  dissipated  by  a  few  hours' 
sun  and  a  melting  south  wind.  The  ice  congealed  by 
the  chills  of  the  night  was  invariably  reduced  again  to 
water  by  the  warm  atmosphere  of  the  following  day — 
and  thus  the  roads  were  kept  in  a  condition  to  be 
ploughed  up  by  every  wheel  and  hoof  that  passed  over, 
or  more  literally  speaking,  through  them.  In  every  di- 
rection toward  the  interior  of  the  state  of  Michigan, 
from  Detroit,  the  face  of  the  country  is  low  and  unbroken 
by  hills,  and  seldom  varied  by  the  slightest  undulations. 
The  surface  of  the  land  exhibits  an  appearance  of  be- 
ing usually  wet — and  in  some  places  it  is  sunken  and 
swampy.  In  such  a  tract  of  country,  the  natural  facili- 
ties for  roads  are  few.  The  soil  is  the  very  worst  ima- 
ginable for  the  purpose — and  on  it  no  process  can  pro- 
duce a  good  road  without  the  application  of  the  theory 
of  Mr.  McAdam.  Which  theory,  whether  it  had  its 
origin  with  the  very  Mr.  McAdam  of  English  fame,  or 
some  other  son  of  Adam)  I  hold  to  be  the  true  system 
of  road  making  anywhere. 


I 


13 


A  SKETCH. 


(i 


But  to  return  ;  On  my  arrival  at  Detroit,  the  roads  in 
all  directions  in  the  vicinity  were  seen  submerged,  or 
else  presenting  one  continuous  slough,  over  vrhich  a 
crust  was  now  and  then  thrown  by  the  frost,  which, 
while  it  lasted,  had  no  other  effect  than  to  render  the 
passage  more  horrible  to  the  traveller ;  and  through 
which,  it  was  almost  madness  for  one  to  attempt  to 
force  his  way — and  upon  it  none  ventured,  save  those 
who  were  goaded  on  by  some  pressing  emergency,  or 
motive  of  speculation.  During  this  state  of  the  roads, 
every  traveller,  who  appeared  to  be  master  of  his  own 
time,  seemed  to  have  chosen  the  city's  precincts  as  a 
resting  place,  until  a  change  of  weather  should  make 
the  avenues  to  the  interior  of  the  country  more  tolerable 
— and  to  abide  with  the  hospitalities  of  the  hotels, 
rather  than  venture  life  in  the  mud,  mire,  and  water 
which  pervaded  the  roads  :  and  in  the  delay  of  the 
journey er  there  was  this  consolation  to  him — the  roads 
could  not  be  worse  ! 

My  motive  in  proceeding  to  Detroit,  after  leaving  the 
Patriot  force  on  the  10th  of  January,  was  to  make  the 
necessary  arrangements  for  some  farther  military  move- 
ments which  were  to  be  carried  on  by  the  revolutionists 
in  Upper  Canada,  and  in  which  it  was  my  expectation 
to  command  ;  and  in  fartherance  of  this  object,  I  had  in 
view  to  proceed  immediately  to  the  interior  of  the  state. 


iv^^ 


Su 


A  SKETCH. 


13 


the  roads  in 
bmerged,  or 
er  which  a 
rost,  which, 
render  the 
nd  through 
attempt  to 
save  those 
ergency,  or 
■  the  roads, 
)f  his  own 
cincts  as  a 
ould  make 
re  tolerable 
the  hotels, 
and  water 
lay  of  the 
-the  roads 

eaving  the 
>  make  the 
tary  move- 
olutionists 
xpectation 
t,  I  had  in 
the  state. 


But  neither  patriotism  nor  military  ardour  was  sufficient 
to  give  me  fortitude  to  put  out  and  encounter  the  roads 
in  their  then  horrible  condition.  So  I  placed  myself 
upon  the  list  of  weather-bound  voyageurs. 

There  had  been  created  in  Michigan,  by  an  act  of  a 
recent  legislature  of  the  state,  what  was  called  a  "  Ge- 
neral Banking  System" — which  had  about  this  time  got 
into  full  operation.  Under  this  law,  associations  for  the 
issue  of  bills,  (as  very  few  of  the  institutions  were  any- 
thing more,)  were  formed  and  established  in  multiplicity 
throughout  the  state.  During  my  stay  in  Michigan  I 
visited  one  village  in  the  interior  having  no  more  than 
five  or  six  hundred  inhabitants,  in  which  there  were 
then  no  less  than  four  of  these  banks,  as  they  were 
denominated.  Other  villages,  contaning  half  the  num- 
ber of  inhabitants,  had  two,  three,  and  so  on — and  a 
number  of  places  I  passed  through  on  my  perambulations 
in  the  state,*  existing  as  villages  only  in  name,  (as  they 
contained  no  more  than  four  or  ^vq  habitations  each,) 
had,  also,  each  their  bank. 

The  bills  issued  by  these  concerns,  which  bore  the 
style  of  "  Safety  Fund  Banks" — but  more  generally 
known  by  the  name  of  "  Wild-cat  Banks"— -and  their 
notes  by  the  denomination  of  "Wild-cat  Money" — 
were  in  most  extensive  circulation  ;  and  as  the  flood- 
ing of  the  state  with  these  bills  had  had  the  effect  of  ban- 

B 


■tii" 


^v- 


I 


I 


14 


A  SKETCH. 


t 


ishing  therefrom  all  better  currency — the  bills,  however 
questionable  in  character,  were  by  the  people,  ex  neces^ 
sitatisj  universally  received  and  accepted  as  a  currency 
for  the  ordinary  transaction  of  business.  Why  these 
institutions  of  Michigan  were  called  "Wild-cat  Banks," 
I  was  never  informed,  and  could  not  now  even  conjec- 
ture, unless  it  was  that  their  location,  or  the  places  from 
whence  many  of  the  bills  of  the  "  Wild-cat  Money  "  in 
circulation  were  issued,  were  matters  of  as  much  uncer- 
tainty, and  as  difficult  to  be  arrived  at,  as  was  the 
whereabouts  of  the  animal  whose  name  they  had  been 
made  to  assume. 

In  providing  by  law  a  "  General  Banking  System," 
it  had  been  ostensibly  the  intention  of  the  legislature 
to  confer  the  privilege  of  banking  and  of  issuing  negoti- 
able paper  upon  any  association  of  persons  in  the  state 
who  should  comply  with  certain  regulations,  intended  to 
prevent  the  commission  of  fraud,  and  make  an  adequate 
pledge  of  real  estate  for  the  redemption  of  their  bills. 
But  so  loosely  was  the  law  framed,  and  so  insufficient 
was  it  in  its  provisions,  that  it  had  been  made  rather  to 
encourage  fraud  by  system,  than  otherwise,  by  authori- 
zing the  issue  of  notes  without  there  being  afforded  any 
real  security  to  the  holder  for  their  redemption.  The 
law  was,  however,  subsequently  so  amended,  or  modifi- 
ed by  other  enactments,  that  some  of  its  doors  to  fraud 


f? 


al 


i 


A  SKETCH. 


15 


however 
ex  neces" 
currency 
ly  these 
Banks," 
conjec- 
'Gs  from 
ney  "  in 
1  uncer- 
v^as   the 
ad  been 

y^stem," 
slature 
negoti- 
e  state 
ided  to 
equate 
r  bilJs. 
fficient 
ther  to 
uthori- 
ed  any 
The 
nodifi- 
)  fraud 


n 


were  closed  up ;  but  not  until  the  whole  state,  and  the 
adjacent  sections  of  other  states,  had  been  inundated  by 
a  flood  of  worthless  and  fraudulent  paper.  These  issues 
of  notes  had  been  much  aided  in  the  attainment  of  an 
extensive  and  speedy  circulation,  by  an  inordinate  spirit 
of  speculation  then  pervading  the  community — an  unreal 
and  exorbitant  value  which  had  been  given  to  every 
species  of  property — and  the  generally  deranged  state  of 
the  currency  of  the  whole  country. 

But  banking  and  bill  making  association,  were  not  the 
only  incorporations  that  the  legislature  of  the  new  state 
of  Michigan  had  been  prolific  in  bringing  into  existence. 
Rail-road  incorporations  flourished  almost  as  extensively 
as  "  Wild-cat  Banks  ;"  and  if  there  had  been  rail-roads 
as  abundant  as  rail-road  incorporations,  there  had  been 
less  complaint  and  delay  on  account  of  the  mud  by  which 
Detroit  was  surrounded.  However,  among  the  number 
of  rail-roads  for  the  construction  of  which  incorporations 
had  been  formed,  there  was  one  to  extend  from  Detroit 
to  the  village  of  Pontiac,  some  twenty  miles  or  more  to 
the  north.  This  road  had  been  graded  for  about  half  its 
distance  from  Detroit — and  upon  such  part,  rails  were 
laid  for  one  track,  on  which  the  company  constructing 
the  road,  had  commenced  running  a  single  car  at  stated 
times  for  the  conveyance  of  passengers  as  far  as  Royal 
Oak,     The  remaining  part  of  the  route  to  Pontiac  was 


I 


r 


16 


A  SKETCH. 


supplied  by  an  ordinary  lumber  wagon,  as  a  means  of 
conveyance. 

On  a  day  appointed  for  the  car  to  run  upon  this  road, 
I  concluded  I  would  endeavour  to  make  my  way  as  far  as 
Pontiac  by  means  of  these  public  conveyances,  and 
took  a  seat  in  the  car  for  Royal  Oak.  Other  than  my- 
self, there  were  but  two  passengers  in  the  car.  One 
of  these,  by  the  side  of  whom  I  was  placed,  was  a 
young  gentleman,  apparently  in  the  last  of  his  teens. 
The  other  a  young  lady,  who  was,  perhaps,  his  junior 
of  two  or  three  years.  On  my  first  entering  the  car,  I 
guessed  the  two  to  be  a  brother  and  sister  from  one  of 
the  eastern  cities  of  the  United  States,  on  a  visiting  tour 
to  some  of  their  family  connexion  settled  in  Michigan  ; 
but  on  entering  into  conversation  with  them,  it  was  soon 
made  known  to  me  that  the  individuals  bore  a  nearer 
and  closer  relation  to  each  other  than  that  of  brother  and 
sister  :  and  from  their  bland  and  polished  manners,  they 
proved,  to  me,  very  agreeable  and  amusing  road  compa- 
nions. They  told  me  they  were  very  recently  from  the 
city  of  New- York,  and  had  taken  up  a  residence  at  the 
village  of  Royal  Oak,  where  our  ride  upon  the  rail-road 
would  terminate. 

While  the  car  rolled  on  by  the  agency  of  a  one  horse 
power,  the  conversation,  in  which  both  my  fellow-pas- 
sengers engaged  with  true  American  ease  and  sociability, 


1 


tl 


A  SKETCH. 


17 


turned  upon  the  operation  of  the  "  General  Banking 
System"  of  Michigan,  and  the  universally  deranged  state 
of  the  currency  which  then  existed  in  the  country ;  and, 
although  they  were  both  of  an  age  that  did  not  allow 
them  a  legal  majority,  the  gentleman,  nevertheless,  spoke 
more  advisedly  of  those  matters,  than  I  had  often  found 
it  done  by  intelligent  persons  of  a  more  perfect  age— 
and  in  the  matters  of  exchange,  loans,  and  discounts,  the 
lady  showed  herself  no  less  learned  than  her  lord.  But, 
then,  from  their  remarks,  they  left  me  no  reason  to  doubt 
of  their  partiality  for  the  "  General  Banking  System" — 
which  I  ventured  to  maintain,  was  a  most  impolitic  con- 
cern. 

From  the  drift  of  the  conversation  which  had  been 
carried  on,  with  the  fact  that  my  fellow-passengers 
were,  as  they  had  informed  me,  recent  emigrants  from 
the  city  of  New- York,  I  had  drawn  the  conclusion  that 
the  young  gentleman  was  engaged  in  the  retailing  of 
merchandize — and  of  this  I  ventured  to  inquire,  when 
I  was  informed  by  him  that  he  was  the  cashier  of  one 
the  hanks  established  under  the  "  General  Banking 
System,"  located  at  Royal  Oak  ;  and  the  lady  produced 
from  her  reticule  one  of  the  bills  of  their  hank,  and  ex- 
hibited it  to  me.  So  far  as  the  bill  was  concerned  it 
was  a  very  handsomely  executed  engraving,  with  a  beau- 
tiful vignette.     A  very  pretty  thing  it  was — and  so  was 

B3 


IK 


i 


18 


A  SKETCH. 


the  lady  !  Then  being  advised  that  we  were  near  our 
stopping  place,  I  put  my  head  out  of  the  window  of  the 
car  in  order  to  get  a  view  of  the  village.  From  the 
name  it  bore,  and  the  fact  of  its  being  the  location  of  a 
bank  J I  had  expected  to  see  something  of  a  place  ;  (for 
I  was  at  that  time  altogether  unacquainted  with  what 
constituted  a  village  in  Michigan,)  but,  to  my  surprise,  I 
beheld  little  else  than  stumps  and  trees.  The  village 
was  merely  a  cleared  spot  upon  a  plain,  without  stores, 
shops,  or  dwelling  houses,  save  a  single  dwelling,  then 
kept  as  a  public  house,  with  the  barn  and  shed  belong- 
ing to  it,  and  a  shed  for  the  housing  of  the  rail-road  cars. 
There  were  no  manufacturing  establishments  or  advan- 
tages of  hydraulic  power ;  and  an  entire  absence  of  every 
local  advantage,  whatever,  except  that  conferred  by  the 
bare  existence  of  the  rail-road. 

So  extraordinary  did  this  place  seem  to  me  for  the 
location  of  a  bank,  that  as  the  car  was  stopped,  I  was 
induced  to  inquire  if  we  had  really  arrived  at  the  village 
of  Royal  Oak  1 

Being  answered  in  the  affirmative,  and  seeing  nothing 
that  looked  like  a  banking-house,  or  office,  I  asked — • 
"  where  do  you  keep  your  bank  ?" 

"  Oh  !"  replied  the  lady, "  my  husband  keeps  the  bank 
in  his  hat." 

From  Royal  Oak,  I  proceeded  on  to  Pontiac,  in  an 


i 


M, 


A  SKETCH. 


19 


i* 


.i:^'* 

"»«•'■ 


open  wagon,  hub  deep  in  the  mud.  The  next  day,  after 
my  arrival  at  Pontiac,  there  was  a  light  fall  of  snow, 
which  enabled  me  to  make  my  tour  through  the  interior 
of  the  state  with  tolerable  facility,  and  return  to  Detroit 
before  the  last  day  of  the  month. 

About  the  first  of  February,  I  became  satisfied  there 
could  be  no  chance  of  success  for  any  of  the  proposed 
movements  of  the  revolutionists  in  Upper  Canada,  and 
relinquished  my  connexion  with  the  Patriots  ;  and  then 
abandoning  all  idea  of  being  again  employed  as  a  military 
officer  by  any  of  the  Canadian  Revolutionists,  I  made 
•my  relinquishment  from  their  cause  known  by  a  notice, 
to  that  effect,  published  in  a  Detroit  newspaper,  and  be- 
gan to  make  my  arrangements  to  return  to  my  home  and 
former  peaceful  pursuits.     But  having  formed  a  design 
to  compile  and  publish  a  book,  to  be  entitled  "  Navy  Is- 
•land  ;  or,  the  First  Movements  of  the  Revolution  in  Up- 
per  Canada,^''*  in  which  I  proposed  to  give  an  account 


(• 


'.,  ■'• 


sH' 


*  A  work  bearing  this  title  has  been  prepared  by  me,  and  is  now 
ready  for  press.  But,  as  I  have  been  indicted  in  the  United  States 
Court  for  an  alleged  violation  of  the  neutrality  law,  in  the  establish- 
ment of  a  military  force  on  Navy  Island  in  December,  A.  D.  1837, 
it  would  be  altogether  inconsistent  with  my  interest,  for  me  to  pub- 
lish any  account  of  those  proceedings,  for  which  I  am  to  be  tried, 
until  after  my  trial  shall  have  been  gone  through  with — which  I 
am  informed  by  the  United  States  Attorney,  will  be  brought  on  at 
a  Circuit  Court  appointed  to  be  held  at  Canandaigua  in  June  next 
— the  eatUeat  day  when  my  case  can  be  determined. 


20 


A  SKETCH. 


:( 


i 


'1 


of  the  Patriot  movements  in  the  Province  of  Upper 
Canada,  and  the  transactions  on  the  frontiers  of  the 
United  States  in  aid  of  those  movements  ;  and  in  order 
to  procure  the  necessary  information  and  documents  for 
such  work,  it  was  necessary  for  me  to  delay  my  de- 
parture from  Detroit  a  few  days  ;  and  then,  when  I  was 
ready  to  proceed  on  my  return,  the  snow  was  all  gone, 
and  the  roads  bare,  and  almost  as  impassable  as  ever. 
So  1  resolved  to  hold  on  for  a  little  snow. 

I  had  made  an  arrangement  for  a  private  conveyance 
from  Detroit  to  Toledo,  in  Ohio ;  and  the  person  in 
whose  carriage  I  was  to  ride,  had  engaged  it  to  be  on 
the  way  in  the  first  hour  that  there  should  be  snow 
enough  to  slide  a  vehicle.  I  was  already  tired  with  the 
delay  I  had  been  subjected  to,  and  dreaded  a  longer  de- 
tention for  the  want  of  snow,  when,  to  my  great  joy,  the 
weather  manifested  a  change.  The  atmosphere  became 
thick  and  hazy,  clothing  the  horizon  with  one  dark  and 
lowering  cloud,  which  indicated  that  it  was  fixing  for  a 
storm — and  the  old  ones  prognosticated  a  copious  fall 
of  snow ;  and,  after  a  day  spent  in  watching  the  ele- 
ments, at  the  usual  hour,  I  retired,  to  dream  of  "  the 
snow-path,  sleigh,  and  jingling  bells." 

On  the  morning,  with  the  earliest  dawn,  I  was  at  my 
window.  My  hands  touched  the  fastening  of  the  shut- 
ters, and  in  an  instant  they  were  folded  back ;  but,  alas 


lit 


r 


A  SKETCH. 


21 


for  me,  there  was  no  mending  of  the  ii^ds  yet !  The 
heavens  were  still  hung  in  drapery  of  dun  ;  and  all  with- 
out was  cheerless  and  sombre.  The  cloud  which  cover- 
ed the  horizon  at  night  had  looked  as  full  as  a  sack  of 
feathers,  and  I  had  thought  heaven  certainly  would  have 
shaken  its  dark  garments  before  morning.  Severe  cold 
weather  for  a  succession  of  days  had  closed  the  wet, 
and  given  the  toads  a  solid  foundation,  if  not  a  smooth 
surface  >  and  through  the  promised  snow-storm,  I  saw 
a  speedy  and  pleasant  return  to  my  home,  and  had  gone 
to  my  couch  with  much  the  same  feelings  as  a  new  made 
militia  colonel  may  be  supposed  to  retire  with  on  the 
evening  that  precedes  the  general  muster  at  which  he 
is  to  make  his  debut  in  the  field  ;  for  although  I  had  no 
such  glory  in  the  perspective,  I  was  as  much  perplexed 
with  the  weather  on  finding  the  ground  still  bare  in  the 
morning,  as  the  said  officer  might  have  been  at  being 
awakened  on  the  morning  of  his  parade  day,  by  the  patter- 
ing of  a  rain-storm.  But  I  had  this  advantage — the  omens 
of  the  sky  promised  still  the  gratification  of  my  desires, 
without  the  chance  of  much  farther  delay.  My  abode 
was  at  one  of  the  hotels  of  the  city  ;  and  when  the  bell 
rang  for  breakfast,  I  went  down  and  took  my  seat  at  the 
public  table  in  a  frame  of  mind  similar  to  that  enjoyed 
by  the  bride-groom,  as  he  takes  his  last  meal  before  the 
wedding  supper  :  not,  however,  that  I  had  in  my  mind's 


'!; 


Ii 


!i. 


u 


l^ 


22 


A  SKETCH. 


eye  any  such  nice  things  ;  but,  when  the  mind  is  other- 
wise unoccupied,  whatever  it  embraces  or  takes  up, 
whether  it  be  great  or  small,  fills  it  alike. 

On  returning  to  my  apartment  from  the  breakfast 
room,  I  again  proceeded  to  the  casement.  "  Oh !  ho  !" 
said  I  to  myself,  "  it  snows  /"  Old  Boreas  was  awake, 
and  had  just  began  to  pick  his  geese,  as  the  sailors  say. 
The  flakes  of  snow  were  then  tumbling  down  in  quick 
succession,  and  so  fast  did  they  follow  each  other  in 
their  fall,  that  in  a  brief  moment  the  ground  was  spread 
with  a  white  coat.  In  beholding  the  operation  of  sift- 
ing the  clouds,  I  was  highly  delighted,  and  immediately 
proceeded  to  a  porch  of  the  hotel,  where  I  could  more 
freely  enjoy  the  view.  There,  having  made  myself 
quite  comfortable  in  my  cap  and  cloak,  I  had  remained 
for  sometime  watching,  with  the  most  pleasurable  feel- 
ings, the  rapidity  with  which  the  snow  was  accumulating 
in  the  streets — and  with  nothing  vexed,  but  the  idea  that 
the  greater  part  of  the  article  just  then  so  much  needed 
in  the  roads,  would  be  uselessly  scattered  over  the  fields 
and  the  house  tops,  when  my  ears  were  saluted  with  a 
"  hurra  /"  and  I  beheld  a  bevy  of  schoolboys  issuing 
from  a  room  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  way. 

"  Hurra !  it  snows  /"  cried 'the  leader  of  the  gang,  as 
he  leaped  into  the  element ;  and  as  his  fellows  followed 
him  from  their  apartment,  and  found  themselves  beyond 


A  SKETCH. 


23 


the  control  of  the  pedagogue,  the  "  hurra  /"  was  echoed 
and  re-echoed.  Their  little  hearts  seemed  ready  to 
burst  with  joy. 

As  they  tramped  to  and  fro  in  the  light  mass  which 
had  already  covered  the  ground,  they  turned  their  faces 
to  the  skies,  and  exultingly  shouted,  "  it  snows — oh,  it 


snows 


f" 


Then  they  were  divided  into  two  distinct  squads  or 
forces,  and  arrayed  against  each  other.  Anon,  the  air 
was  filled  with  flying  balls  of  snow,  hurled  by  the  one 
party  upon  the  other,  and  returned  by  a  seeming  fair  ex- 
change, while  the  neighbourhood  was  made  to  resound 
with  the  shout  of  victory  as  it  was  thought  to  declare 
for  the  one  or  the  other  of  the  contending  parties. 

Leaving  this  scene,  I  retired  toward  my  apartment 
with  a  view  to  put  myself  in  readiness  for  immediate 
departure.  I  mounted  the  first  flight  of  stairs  and  ar- 
rived in  the  hall  of  the  second  floor.  Before  entering 
my  room,  I  walked  to  a  front  window  in  order  once 
more  to  observe  how  it  went  with  the  juvenile  parties 
to  the  joust  in  the  street.  In  the  position  I  had  thus 
taken,  on  my  left  was  the  entrance  to  a  lady^s  parlour — 
and  on  my  right,  that  of  a  gentleman.  To  this  last,  as 
I  placed  myself  at  the  window  of  the  hall,  a  servant 
came  up  to  answer  a  summons. 


SI '  ^:  i ' 


( . 


I  '■ 


I  '  ; 


iirrj^ 


10 


i 


I' 


m 


i] 

■1 


24 


A  SKETCH. 


"  Did  you  ring,  sir  ?"  inquired  the  servant,  as  he 
threw  open  the  door. 

"  I  did" — was  the  answer.  As  the  door  fell  back 
upon  its  hinges,  I  beheld  the  occupant  of  the  room,  an 
aged  invalid,  shivering  over  the  diminished  fire  of  his 
grate. 

"  It  snows,^^  said  he,  "  and  I  desire  you  to  close  the 
the  shutters  of  my  windows ;  and  bring  me  up  some 
more  fuel,  that  I  may  replenish  my  fire." 

The  servant  entered  to  execute  the  first  order,  as  I 
supposed,  and  as  he  closed  the  door  after  him,  I  heard 
the  invalid  groan  out  in  the  most  piteous  accents,  "  Oh ! 
how  grievous  I  feel  this  storm." 

At  the  same  instant,  I  heard  the  sound  of  hurried 
steps  ;  and  on  turning  round  I  beheld  a  young  lady  trip- 
ping it  toward  me  through  the  hall,  upon  almost  a  very 
run.  Approaching  the  door  on  my  left,  she  threw  it 
wide  open,  and  as  she  entered,  exclaimed — "  Oh ! 
Martha,  it  snows  /"  I  followed  her  into  the  parlour  with 
my  eyes,  where  there  was  another  female,  a  companion 
as  she  seemed.  As  the  one  entered,  the  other,  who 
was  also  young,  was  sitting,  or  rather  reclining,  upon  a 
sofa  at  the  farther  side  of  the  apartment.  In  her  hand 
she  held  a  book,  in  the  reading  of  which  she  appeared 
to  have  been  engaged  \  and  it  was  evident  from  her  man- 


ner 
by 

to 

sn( 

us 

m] 

still 

aftt 


|4 


A  SKETCH. 


25 


ner  that  until  that  moment  she  had  been  ignorant  of  the 
fact  communicated  by  her  fair  friend.  Upon  the  noti- 
fication given  her,  she  arose,  threw  down  her  book, 
sprung  to  the  window,  and  putting  aside  the  tapestry 
by  which  it  was  surrounded — "  la,  me !"  said  she,  "  so 
it  does." 

The  door  had  fallen  back  against  the  wall,  leaving 
the  entrance  wide  open.  The  young  ladies  had  taken 
a  position  at  the  casement,  very  near  and  partly  before 
a  large  mirror  placed  between  the  two  front  windows  of 
the  apartment — and  there  they  stood,  two  as  lovely  and 
beautiful  creatures  as  any  of  the  daughters  of  Eve. 

"  Now,  Fanny,"  said  the  one,  as  she  gazed  from  the 
window  upon  the  street,  '*  this  snow  will  be  most  de- 
lightful for  the  cotillon   party  at   ,  on  Thursday 

next ;"  and  then  she  turned  to  examine  her  complexion 
by  the  glass. 

"  Oh !  yes,"  replied  the  other  ;  '*but  you  are  not  going 
to  wait  until  that  time,  my  dear  Martha,  to  enjoy  this 
snow,  I  hope  ?  Joseph,  you  recollect,  promised  to  take 
us  out  as  soon  as  the  roads  should  be  white  ;  and  look 
ye,  the  street  is  more  than  whitened  already.  Why  ! 
my  dear,  this  moment  the  snow  is  quite  plentiful,  and 
still  increasing.  We  must  go  out  sleighing  this  very 
afternoon." 

C 


1      .    '1 

I  ■■ 

t 


.  I-' 


■tiii 


i  ': 


k 


i^m^ 


Wl< 


26 


A  SKETCH. 


f^ 


"  Is  it  not  too  blustering,  my  dear  Fanny  ?"  asked  the 
other. 

"  It  may  be,  it  blows  a  cold  breath  or  so,  but  that  is 
nothing  bad."  Then  casting  her  eyes  on  her  own  figure 
in  the  glass,  "  Oh  !  Martha  !"  exclaimed  she,  "  how  do 
these  jewels  become  me  ?  I  have  just  put  them  on  for 
the  first  time" — calling  the  attention  of  her  companion 
to  a  pair  of  brilliant  ear  jewels  she  wore,  and  a  rich  gold 
necklace  gracefully  thrown  round  a  neck  still  richer  with 
nature's  gifts. 

"  Oh,  splendid  !"  was  the  reply ;  and  this  was  all  I 
saw  or  heard  of  the  fair  creatures.  I  could  stay  no 
longer  to  gaze  at  "  woman's  lovely  form,"  or  to  listen  to 
the  soft  sounds  which  fell  from  "  beauty's  coral  lips.'' 
I  saw  my  sleigh  ready  in  the  street.  A  moment  took 
me  to  my  room,  and  in  another  I  was  prepared  to  leave 
it — my  baggage  put  in  charge  of  a  porter,  and  I  down  at 
the  door.  A  bustle  and  confusion  had  there  commenced. 
Porters  loaded  with  baggage,  and  travellers  muffled  to 
the  eyes,  were  pouring  out  from  the  principal  entrance 
of  the  hotel. 

There  was  already  a  jam  of  sleighs  at  the  door — 
and  the  cry  of  "  whoa  !  Charley,''  every  now  and  then, 
gave  notice  of  an  addition  ;  while  the  quick  succession 
in  which  came  the  ''good  bye^'  and  the  crack  of  the 


m 


# 


)» 


\     \ 


li 


A  SKETCH. 


27 


whip,  told  that  the  number  was  fast  diminishing.  Af- 
ter a  brief  delay,  the  crowd  became  so  reduced  as  to 
allow  my  baggage  being  stowed  in  my  sleigh  ;  and  I 
was  ready  to  say  the  "  good  %c,"  and  be  off.  But  just 
as  I  was  about  to  step  into  my  vehicle,  a  circumstance 
occurred  to  detain  me  for  a  little  while  ;  and  the  person 
with  whom  I  was  to  proceed  having  suggested  that  he 
was  desirous  to  stop  for  a  short  time  at  a  house  in 
another  street,  I  proposed  to  meet  him  at  the  place 
named,  as  soon  as  I  was  again  ready  to  proceed. 

In  less  than  a  half  hour,  all  my  business  was  dis- 
posed of,  and  I  once  more  ready  to  go.  I  then  immedi- 
ately proceeded  to  the  street  where  I  expected  to  find 
my  man  with  his  sleigh  and  my  baggage — but  there  he 
was  not  to  be  found.  I  called  at  the  house  where  he 
engaged  I  should  meet  him  ;  and  there  I  was  informed 
he  had  gone  to  see  an  individual  at  another  house,  to 
which  I  was  directed.  To  this  I  proceeded.  On 
opening  the  front  door,  a  principal  entrance  to  the  build- 
ing, I  found  myself  in  a  broad  and  dreary  hall,  from 
which  there  were  several  doors  opening  into  different 
apartments  ;  and  a  flight  of  stairs  leading  to  a  second 
story.  The  house  was  one  of  those  kind  of  structures 
intended  for  the  use  of  the  poorer  class  of  city  tenants, 
and  calculated  to  accommodate  [contain]  a  number  of 
distinct  families.  As  I  entered  the  hall,  I  encountered 
a  small  boy  passing  through  it,  bearing  upon  his  shoiU- 


5'  . 
It 


!'■ 


1 

•!    i 


l^ 


i.'fl 


"  fr 


I'i 


if' 


*!ii 


28 


A  SKETCH. 


..■'i 


r: 


der  a  light  stick  of  fire-wood.     Him  I  accosted,  and 

asked  if ,  the  person  I  was  informed  my  man  had 

called  to  see,  was  within  ?  "  He  lives  up  stairs,  sir," 
was  the  boy's  reply.  At  the  same  moment,  the  indivi- 
dual inquired  after  appeared  at  the  head  of  the  stair- 
case, and  gave  me  the  information  that  my  man  had 
been  there,  but  was  then  gone. 

As  I  was  about  to  return  to  the  street,  I  observed  the 
boy  I  had  encountered  on  first  entering,  near  a  door 
which  he  was  demanding  to  be  opr^ned  to  him.  The 
demand  was  complied  with  by  a  person  from  within,  a 
woman  of  a  careworn  aspect,  though  scarce  of  middle 
age. 

*'  Mother,"  cried  the  boy,  as  she  undid  the  door,  "oh, 
how  it  snows !  and  this  is  the  last  stick  of  wood." 

"  Oh !  God !"  ejaculated  the  woman — "  is  this  the 
last  stick  of  wood  ?"  and  as  she  took  it  from  the  boy's 
hand,  the  door  was  re-closed  ;  and  I  saw  no  more  of 
her,  whom  I  learned  was  a  poor  widow  with  a  depen- 
dant offspring. 

Then,  a  few  strides  brought  me  to  the  street  again. 
But  there  finding  nothing  of  the  man  I  was  seeking,  his 
sleigh,  or  my  baggage,  it  became  evident  he  had  (rone 
and  left  me.  Under  these  circumstances  I  could  do 
no  more  than  return  to  the  hotel,  and  seek  for  another 
conveyance  with  which  to  proceed  ;  and  as  I  footed 


my 
wai 

CUE 

wh 
boy 

SW( 

ed 

wic 

sou 

Iti! 

pail 
hap 
wit] 
so  J 


If 


IP  \ 


A  SKETCH. 


29 


my  way  back  along  the  streets,  everything  around  me 
was  passed  unnoticed,  and  I  even  forgot  the  vexing  cir- 
cumstance of  my  own,  in  a  contemplation  of  the  scenes 
which  had  just  passed  before  my  eyes.  The  school- 
boy's shout  of  glee — the  groans  of  the  invalid — the 
sweet  accents  of  the  love  inspiring  maids — the  express- 
ed elation  of  the  travellers — and  the  sighs  of  the  poor 
widow,  commingled  in  my  imagination  and  filled  my 
soul  with  amazement.  But  why  should  I  be  amazed  ? 
It  is  evident  that  nature  has  ordained  that  misery  and 
pain  shall  have  a  residence  next  door  to  pleasure  and 
happiness — and  that  sorrow  and  despair  shall  travel 
within  shaking-hands  distance  of  joy  and  ecstacy :  and 
so  it  must  ever  remain  in  this  world. 


Irt 


! 


■i! 


:l-^ 


\\\- 


."f   ''I 


»^ 


C2 


ilH' 


I'M; 


I  " 

)■■' 


SONNET  ON   QUEBEC. 

Written  while  imprisoned  in  the  Citadel. 

Bright  in  the  sun — high,  frowning  o'er  the  wave, 
Thy  bold  promontory's  unshaken  rock 
Defies  the  storm — and  dares  the  earthquake's  shock ! 

Thou  hast  the  gallant  dead — and  crouching  slave, 
And  dire  oppression — since  bold  Cartier  bore 
The  Donnacona  captive  from  thy  shore. 

The  French,  in  wrong,  thy  savages  expelled ; 

Then  they  were  vanquished,  as  the  Brittons  came, 
And  gave  new  masters — tyrants  all  the  same — 

Who  have  the  march  of  freedom  now  repelled ! 

Yet,  thrice  armed  tow'rs  shall  fail,  here,  long  to  stand 
The  despot's  prop — where  freemen  should  command  : 

And  in  triumph  shall  plant,  "  the  sons  of  liberty," 

On  thy  dismantled  walls — the  standard  of  the  free  ! 


DONNACONA. 

When  Jaques  Cartier  visited  Quebec,  in  1534,  it  was  then  the 
seat  of  an  Indian  village  called  Stadacona.  Here,  on  the  17th  of 
September,  he  opened  a  friendly  communication  with  the  natives  ; 
and  on  the  following  day,  says  the  historian,  "  the  Lord  of  Cana- 
da, whose  proper  name  was  Donnacona,"  came  with  twelve  ca- 
noes full  of  people,  eight  being  in  each,  to  visit  the  strangers  as 
they  lay  at  anchor  between  the  island  and  the  north  shore,  and 
tendered  them  his  amity  and  confidence. 

In  1536,  Cartier  having  resolved  to  return  to  France,  seized 
Donnacona,  with  a  number  of  other  Indians  of  note,  and  carried 
them  off  to  France  for  the  purpose  of  presenting  them  to  the 
king. — Hakluyt. 


ADDRESS   TO   THE   SUN, 

On  beholding  a  morning  beam  on  my  prison  wall. 


I'  ■  1 


I 


L 

Why  thus  obtrude  thy  glitt'ring  ray, 
Within  my  barred  and  dreary  cell  ? 

But,  to  the  free,  proclaim  the  day, 
My  darkness  thou  cannot  dispel : 

I,  here,  no  day  nor  night  would  know ! 

So,  dazzling  sun  beam,  quickly  go  I 

IL 
Go,  shed  thy  light  o'er  half  the  earth, 

And  gild  the  lofty  mountain's  top  ; 
Awake  the  grove  to  music's  mirth, 

And  let  the  herd  the  herbage  crop ; 
Call  forth  the  ploughman  to  the  field, 
And  bid  the  soil  its  plenty  yield. 

IIL 
Go,  shed  thy  light  on  oceatfs  wave, 

Where  loud  terrific  waters  roar. 
There  thou  some  shattered  bark  may  save, 

By  showing  forth  the  wished  for  shore — 
And  let  the  shipwrecked  seaman  gain 
The  port  long  strove  for — ^but  in  vain  ! 


'•  ■»: 


m 
mf 


I!!  I  -' 


||| 


h  ^ 

k 


III 


!      1  I 

I  ill 


I!" 


111 


32 


ADDRESS  TO  THE  SUN. 


il 


Go,  bid  awaken  to  the  drum, 

The  soldier  armed  for  fields  of  strife  ; 
Arouse  the  city's  busy  hum, 

And  call  the  living  mass  to  life — 
Where  gilded  crime  is  meed  of  praise, 
And  want  is  hid  by  wealth's  proud  blaze. 

V. 

Go,  wake  the  slumbers  of  the  maid  ; 

And  break  the  lover's  dream  of  bliss  ; 
Merchants  recall  to  schemes  of  trade ; 

And  let  industry  sleep  dismiss  : 
Go,  bring  the  miser  to  behold 
And  count  again  his  mass  of  gold. 

YI. 

But,  shed  for  me  no  beam  so  fair. 

Nor  pierce  Avith  light  my  casement's  grate  ; 
From  every  ray  my  dungeon  spare  ; 

Nor  make  me  conscious  of  my  fate  : 
While  bolts  and  bars  prescribe  my  lot, 
Let  night  and  darkness  shroud  my  cot. 


i  1 


On  the  4th  of  March,  A.  D.  1838, 1  became  a  pri- 
soner in  Canada — and  was  immediately  sent  to  Toron- 
to, the  seat  of  government  of  the  Upper  Province.     On 


-f 


*l) 


NOTE. 


33 


I  I    ) 


I 


On 


my  arrival  at  that  place,  I  was  directly  taken  to  the  Go- 
vernment House,  where  I  had  an  interview  with  Sir 
Francis  Bond  Head,  then  lieutenant  Governor  of  the 
Province,  who  informed  me  it  was  the  intention  of  *'  the 
Government"  to  subject  me  to  a  speedy  trial — and  lie 
advised  me  to  prepare  my  mind  for  an  execution — as  he 
assured  me,  nothing  could  save  me  from  such  a  fate  ! 
From  the  Government  House  I  was  conveyed  to  the 
garrison — and  on  the  next  day,  at  10  o'clock,  I  was  ar- 
raigned before  a  Court  Martial — and  it  was  during  the 
progress  of  my  trial  before  this  court,  that  the  pre- 
ceding *'  Address  to  the  Sun"  was  composed. 

It  was  at  a  time  when  my  execution  was  believed  to 
be  inevitable  by  almost  every  inhabitant  of  Toronto — 
and  much  expected  by  myself.  I  was  confined  in  a 
room  of  a  magazine  whose  walls  were  four  or  five  feet 
thick,  with  treble-locked  doors  and  massive  grates  at 
the  windows.  This,  of  itself,  would  have  forbidden  all 
idea  of  getting  out,  if  I  had  been  left  there  alone  ;  but 
the  security  against  my  escape  was  made  doubly  so  by 
a  chain  of  five  sentinels  posted  on  the  outsid-e  of  the 
building,  with  another  who  walked  by  the  side  of  my 
bed.  Then,  to  these  there  were  added  three  Irish 
Orangemen,  sworn  in  as  special  constables,  who  re- 
mained in  the  room  near  my  person,  to  ensure  the 
fidelity  of  the  soldiers,  who  are  always  distrusted  by 


f : 


i 


li 


r  ' 


m 


■  ¥\ 


I  .1 

!    I 


\  *t^ 


34 


NOTE. 


their  officers.  I  had  risen  with  the  first  strcakings  of 
the  morning  light — the  sky  was  clear,  and  not  a  cloud 
floated  over  the  liorizon.  The  month  of  April  had 
come  in,  and  the  goddess  of  spring  was  beginning  to 
unbosom  herself  to  nature.  My  window  was  upon  the 
east ;  and  as  the  sun  rose  from  behind  the  broad  ex- 
panse of  the  lake,  it  gave  brilliancy  to  the  waters  of  the 
bay,  and  threw  a  deep  ray  within  my  apartment,  paint- 
ing the  wall  with  the  most  glowing  colours.  At  the 
moment,  all  nature  seemed  to  be  rejoicing  in  the  reful- 
gence of  day — and  then  the  thought  that  I  should,  per- 
haps, no  more  enjoy  its  sweets — but  that  I  must  go  from 
my  cell  to  the  grave — that  the  sun  would  shine  no  more 
for  me — but  to  mock  me,  gave  rise  to  the  feelings  ex- 
pressed in  these  stanzas. 


SACRED    SONG. 


1 


h.'     i| 


r 


I. 

Eternal  God  !  thy  grace  impart, 

To  guide  my  feet  aright ; 
Awake  my  slumb'ring,  sinning  heart 

From  nature's  rayless  night. 
Let  not  these  eyes  be  dimmed  with  age, 

Nor  clouds  come  o'er  the  sun, 
Till  1  have  read,  on  wisdom's  page, 

How  vain  my  thoughts  have  run. 

II. 
While  health  is  blushing  on  my  cheek, 

And  youth's  firm  step  I  tread ; 
E'er  time's  cold  hand,  its  blossoms  bleak, 

Hath  scattered  o'er  my  head  ; 
Bring  back  my  heart,  from  earthly  joys. 

And  pleasure's  bright  career  : 
Why  have  I  sought  for  glitt'ring  toys, 

Or  grasped  for  gold  or  gear  ? 


36 


SACRED  SC/NCV. 


III. 


As  down  the  road  of  youth  I  glide, 

With  folly  in  my  train, 
A  fragile  hope  of  human  pride, 

Is  all  of  worldly  gain : 
But  with  diviner  reason  blest, 

RememVring  God  I'll  live— 
And  know  my  soul's  eternal  rest, 
'Tis  He,  alone,. can  give^ 


!     ^ 


i 


THE  COTILLON  PARTY. 


On  the  evening  of  a  cold  day  in  the  winter  of  18 — , 

1  arrived  at  M ,  a  small  village  located  in  one  of 

the  interior  counties  of  the  State  of  Michigan.  The 
situation  was  in  the  heart  of  a  wilderness,  and  the  place 
had  had  its  existence,  in  name,  only  for  about  a  year  and 
a  half ;  although  it  then  contained  some  extensive  mills, 
a  number  of  stores  and  shops,  about  twenty  dwell- 
ings, with  a  very  tolerable  public  house,  at  which,  on 
the  evening  of  my  arrival,  there  was  to  be  a  Cotillon 
Party,  and  this  I  was  invited  to  attend. 

x\t  an  early  hour  the  company  had  collected  and  the 
dancing  commenced,  and  as  soon  as  I  had  changed  my 
travelling  dress  for  one  suited  to  the  occasion,  and 
subjected  my  person  to  the  necessary  polish  at  the 
toilet,  I  was  introduced  to  the  company,  in  the  assembly 
room,  by  one  of  the  managers  of  the  party,  with  whom 
I  had  had  a  previous  partial  acquaintance.  The  apart- 
ment in  which  1  joined  the  company  had  nothing  in  its 
construction,  fixtures,  or  furniture,  deserving  remark.  It 
occupied  the  whole  extent  of  the  second  story  of  the 


■'d' 


m 

■.  i  ■.  : 

,,  H 


fn 


i 


']: 


S'M 


m 


m 


m 


■  m 


^i- 


38 


THE  COTILLON  PARTV. 


building,  and  will  be  sufficiently  described  by  saying — ' 
it  was  in  all  respects  like  the  assembly  rooms  common 
to  the  taverns  of  the  country  villages  in  the  middle  and 
western  states.     But  the  splendour  of  the  company — it 
was  far  beyond  anything  1  had  ever  thought  of  seeing 
in  the  interior  of  a  yet  wilderness  country.     The  dis- 
play of  fashion  and  richness  of  dress  there  exhibited, 
one  would  hardly  find  equalled  with  the  hon  ton  of  the 
first  Atlantic  cities  of  America.     The  dark  shade  of  the 
fine  glossy  coats  of  the  gentlemen  was  most  agreeably 
relieved  by  the  bright  colours  of  the  dresses  worn  by 
the  ladies  :    and  the  show  of  gold  chains  and  neck- 
laces, with  the  diamon  J  a  and  emeralds  which  blazed 
from  brooches  and  rings,  and  glittered  in  the  ear  jewels 
of  the  ladies,  presented  an  almost  indescribable  bril- 
liancy.    On  my  first  introduction,  the  individuals  who 
formed  the  company,  all  appeared  to  me  as  fully  polish- 
ed as  their  finery  indicated — ^but  the  consequent  fami- 
liarity of  a  few  hours'  acquaintance,  served  so  far  to  re- 
move the  gilding  as  to  allow  me  to  discover  that  they 
were  not  exactly  of  the  same  material,  nor  of  an  equal 
degree  of  refinement.  To  make  the  distinguishment  was 
but  an  easy  matter.     The  awkward  manner  of  one — 
the  vulgar  expression  of  another — and  the  uncourteous 
deportment  and  swaggering  gait  of  others  of  the  men 
told  their  sort — as  readily  as  was  seen  the  true  polish  of 


MS 


1 


THE  COTILLON  PARTY. 


39 


tKe  gentlemen  :  and  in  moving  through  the  figure  of  a 
contra  dance,  in  which  I  engaged  in  the  passing  of  the 
evening,  I  was  no  little  amused  in  discovering  the  great 
variety  that  existed  among  the  females  of  the  company  ; 
all  of  whom  claimed  to  be  ladies,  and  of  an  equality. 
It  is  Lord  Byron,  I  think,  who  said,  he  looked  to  the 
hand  as  a  test  of  nobility.     But  having  seen  some  of  the 
British  nobility  with  hands  which  might  grace  a  labourer 
or  mechanic,  I  doubt  this  being  the  lordling's  true  sign. 
Nevertheless,  the  hands  are,  perhaps,  a  good  test  for 
gentility ;  for  in  joining  hands  with  the  ladies  on  this 
occasion,  as  it  came  my  turn  in  the  dance,  I  did  not  find 
the  operation  like  "  a  fingering  of  the  ivory  keys,"  a 
touching  of  unvaried  smoothness.     The  first  hand  I  held 
in  mine  was  soft  and  velvet  like  ;  the  next  was  coarse 
and  harsh  as  a  blacksmith's.     Again,  I  held  a  hand  that 
was  lovely  and  pretty^ — but  only  through  a  light  kid 
glove  was  I  allowed  to  feel  its  texture  ;  then  I  grasped 
one,  or  rather  mine  was  grasped  by  a  hand  that  held  it 
like  a  vice,  and  as  I  groaned  with  the  pain  I  received 
from  the  squeeze,  I  thought  it  had  been  the  hand  of 
Hercules ;  the  next  I  met  was  more  relaxing ;  another's 
was  thick,  clumsy,  and  sweaty  ;  but  then,  anon,  I  touch- 
ed a  hand  ..lat  **  thrilled  mine  to  the  bone"  with  an 
ecstasy  of  pleasure.     The  owner  was  a  lovely  girl  of 
sixteen,  and  exceedingly  beautiful.     This  fair  creature 


■.»! 


( 


-i! 


am 

m 


m 


40 


THE  COTILLON  PARTY. 


1  solicited  and  obtained  as  a  partner  for  the  next  Cotil- 
lon. 

The  individuals  composing  the  party  with  which  I 
had  met  on  the  occasion  I  have  noticed,  were,  without 
any  exceptions,  recent  settlers  of  the  State  of  Michigan  ; 
and  as  to  the  countries  they  had  emigrated  from,  they 
were  not  less  diversified,  than  in  the  respect  I  have 
mentione  I.  While  there  were  but  a  few  of  them  from 
any  one  state ;  there  was  hardly  a  single  state  in  the 
Union  that  had  not  at  least  one  representative  ;  and  the 
throng  was  well  peppered  and  spiced  with  Europeans  : 
and  then,  as  to  distinctions  and  titles,  one  could  hardly 
have  heard  more  of  such  matters  had  he  been  at  Al- 
mack's,  in  London,  than  did  I  hear  bandied  about  at  this 
party,  by  our  plain  republicans.  With  the  gentlemen, 
there  were  generals,  colonels,  majors,  captains,  and  es- 
quires in  abundance ;  but  very  few  who  claimed  only  the 
simple  title  of  Mister  :  and  the  ladies,  too,  were  not 
less  ambitious  in  claiming  connexion  with  the  men  of 
great  names  of  this  earth.  I  was  there  introduced  to  a 
lady,  who  told  me  she  was  the  wife  of  a  general  some- 
body, (not  present,)  who  had  served  as  such  in  the  army 
of  one  of  the  South  American  states.  I  knew  nothing 
of  her  or  her  gallant  consort,  and  so,  of  course,  I  be- 
lieved her  story.  One  of  the  young  ladies  informed  me 
she  was  the  daughter  of  the  collector  of  customs  of  the 


bu] 

leftl 

gai 

wil 

wit 

tin 


'HI 


■tl)  .J' 


THE  COTILLON  PARTY. 


41 


port  of  New  Orleans,  and  was  then  staying  with  the 
family  of  a  judge  somebody  in  the  neighbourhood,  who 
was  her  relation.  Another  young  lady  said  she  was  the 
daughter  of  another  judge  somebody  of  Richmond, 
Virginia.  To  one  I  was  introduced  who  was  said  to 
be  a  daughter  of  a  certain  member  of  congress — to  an- 
other, the  daughter  of  a  senator  of  one  of  the  states — 
and  another,  the  sister  of  a  state  legislator  ;  and  so  on 
was  it  among  the  ladies,  with  whom  the  idea  of  con- 
sideration seemed  to  be  everything.  One  of  them,  by 
whom  i  had  a  seat  while  at  the  party,  even  gave  herself 
the  trouble  to  name  and  describe  to  me  her  uncles, 
grandfathers,  and  great  uncles,  to  the  number  of  half  a 
dozen  or  more  individuals,  all  of  whom  were  still,  or 
had  been  men  of  great  consequence  in  one  of  the  in- 
terior towns  of  a  New  England  state,  where  they  re- 
sided ;  and  she  seemed  greatly  surprised  at  my  ignorance 
of  their  fame — as  she  assured  me  their  names  had  been 
frequently  printed  in  the  village  gazette. 

Having  gone  forward  and  back,  (ultro  citroque  am- 
bulare,)  cross  over — dos  a  dos — chassee,  and  right  and 
left  through  a  Cotillon  with  the  young  lady  I  had  en- 
gaged as  a  partner,  and  being  exceedingly  interested 
with  her  loveliness  and  vivacity  of  manner,  I  retired 
with  her  to  a  side  of  the  room  for  the  purpose  of  con- 
tinuing a  conversation  which  h^di  been  commenced 

D3 


I  ■ 
i  it.      ni 


i  ■•'• 

1 

;  .\4 

t 

S  '■ 

\ 

■'A' 

.  ! 

■1 

^ 

■? 
1 

1*  1.  •' 

'Ir 

\-  ■■  .') 

\o  i 

ki 

:  :||»i 

1' 

\, 

ni'  1 

'■ 

WB  '^ 

' 

mm  i'l 

'  4' 

fiU  'il 

i% 

ujl  in 

IWm'h 

1 

■ji 

V,  i  ' 

nt  i 

'- 1 

li 

w 

'1 

Ik'' 

m 

,  1 
'it 

42 


THE  COTILLON  PARTT. 


during  the  commands  and  evolutions  of  the  dance.  In 
this  conversation,  the  young  lady  having  several  times 
mentioned  her  father,  I  inquired,  if  he  was  not  a  lawyer  ? 
as  I  had  been  led  to  suppose,  by  some  of  her  observa- 
tions, he  was  of  that  profession. 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  she,  "  my  father  is  not  a  lawyer — he 
is  a  president." 

^'  A  president,"  said  I  to  myself,  "  what  can  the  girl 
mean  ?"  I  had  never  heard  of  the  individual  she  had 
named  as  her  father,  as  being  the  president  or  vice 
president  of  these  United  States — and  I  thought  of 
Bible  Societies,  Temperance  Societies,  and  many  other 
societies  of  the  like  kind,  all  of  which  I  had  understood 
had  their  presidents — but  I  could  not  conceive  that  any 
individual  would  assume,  as  a  business  appellation,  the 
titles  he  might  acquire  by  presiding  over  any  such  in- 
stitutions— and  so  I  ventured  to  ask  the  young  lady, 
**  what  was  the  business  her  father  was  engaged  in  ?" 

"  He  is  a  president,  sir,"  again  answered  she.  "  He 
used  to  be  a  lawyer,  but  now  he  is  a  president ;  and 
he  says  he  has  madti  more  money  by  that  business  than 
he  ever  did  as  a  lawyer," 

I  was  then,  after  hearing  this  statement,  more  puzzled 
than  ever.  I  knew  that  our  president  receives  a  salary 
of  twenty-live  thousand  dollars  per  annum,  (which  may 
make  the  office  a  profitable  one,  and  it  may  not,)  but, 


■)  U  I 


)  I   f 


THE  COTILLON  PARTY. 


43 


then,  I  knew  as  well  that  the  individual  the  young  lady 
had  claimed  as  her  father  was  not  at  the  time  president 
of  these  United  States,  and  never  had  been — unless  I 
had  been  sleeping,  like  Rip  Van  Winkle,  for  fifteen  or 
twenty  years  past.  That  there  was  any  other  presi- 
dency, which  could  be  made  a  profitable  concern,  did 
not  strike  me  at  the  time.  Thus  confounded  I  dropped 
the  subject  and  all  farther  inquiries  in  the  matter. 

Being  shortly  after  separated  from  this  young  lady, 
and  joined  with  a  gentleman  in  another  part  of  the  room, 
I  inquired  of  him,  who  and  what  her  father  was  ? 

"  He  is  a  lawyer,"  answered  the  gentleman. 

"  But,"  said  I,  "  the  young  lady  has  told  me  her 
father  is  not  a  lawyer  now — that  he  is  a  president. 
Pray,  what  does  she  mean  by  that  ?" 

"  Why,"  replied  he,  "  her  father  is  a  president  of  a 
Wild-Cat  Bank." 


'  iiiiiid 


Um 


|.:: 


i 


i 
I 


1*1  '^1 


,.    ''1 


11^ 


M 


Ml 

i  5- ' 


ii  t 


i 


m 


THE    CAPTIVE   PATRIOT. 

Written  while  imprisoned  in  the  Citadel  of  Quebec,  L.  C, 


I. 

The  night  has  flung  o'er  tree  and  glade, 

Its  curtain  of  a  murky  shade  ; 

The  distant  mount,  whose  cap  is  blue, 

Wears  garments  of  a  darker  hue  ; 

The  beasts  retire — the  serf  is  blest, 

His  toil  has  ceased — and  he  has  rest ; 

But  I  my  pallet  seek  in  vain, 

While  doom'd  to  wear  the  captive's  chain, 

IT. 

Another  day's  pervading  light. 
Now  bursts  the  dusky  shroud  of  nighty 
And  tow'r,  and  spire,  and  cliff  and  lawn„ 
Are  painted  with  the  blushing  dawn ; 
While  man  his  round  of  luil  renews, 
And  youth  the  pleasure  path  pursues ; 
But,  night  or  morn,  no  joy  I  gain, 
While  here  I  weaj  the  captive's  chain. 


i 


THE  CAPTIVE  PATRIOT. 


43 


V     >    ^ 


' 


III. 
Here,  grates  my  darkened  windows  spread, 
And  fill  my  drooping  soul  with  dread  ; 
Damp  dreary  walls  my  footsteps  bound  ; 
My  peace  the  clanging  bolts  confound  ; 
I  breathe  the  dungeon's  noxious  air ; 
My  cheek  grows  pallid  with  despair  : 
But,  why  should  I,  of  ills  complain  ? 
For  Liberty — I  wear  the  chain  ! 

IV. 

For  Liberty  !  far  more  than  I, 

In  gloomy  prisons  droop  and  sigh ; 

For  thee — lamented  Riego  fell ; 

In  might,  arose  the  suffering  Tell  ; 

And  Chillon's  pavements,  cold  and  hard. 

Were  marked  with  tracks  by  Bonnivard  ; 

And  Lafayette — first  of  thy  train, 

Long  wore  the  galling  captive's  chain. 

V. 
Then,  there  were  the  glorious  dead, 

Who  for  my  struggling  country  bled  ; 

A  Warren's  blood  was  freedom's  price  ; 

De  Kalb  was  made  a  sacrifice  ; 

Pulaski  fell  in  gallant  strife  ; 

Brave  Morgan  nobly  barter'd  life  ; 

And  martyr  died  the  patriot  Hayne — 

While  Allen  wore  the  captive's  chain. 


.  ■  I 


■'I 


m 


m 
M 


«; 


!  •  i 


'*•  i 

1 

r    f 

■j 

■  '^ 

t'i 

■1    i 

i 

46  APPENDIX  TO  THE  CAPTIVE  PATRIOT. 

VI. 

And  many  a  Greek  has  proved  as  true — 
When  Greece  had  wrongs  of  ruddy  hue  ; 
Oppression  gave  to  Trenck  a  fame  ; 
A  Barneveldt  as  much  might  claim  ; 
And  oft  in  bonds  like  these  we  see, 
Him  who  hath  armed  for  Liberty  I 
Then,  I  the  thought  of  grief  disdain, 
Though,  now,  1  wear  the  captive's  chain. 


i » '■ 


APPENDIX  TO  THE  CAPTIVE  PATRIOT. 
QUEBEC,    L.C. 

A    Translation  from   Bouchett^s   "  Description    Topo- 
graphe  de  la  Province  du  Bas  Canada^ 

The  summer  scenery  of  the  environs  of  Quebec 
may  vie  in  exquisite  beauty,  variety,  magnificence,  sub- 
limity, and  the  naturally  harmonized  combination  of  all 
these  prominent  features,  with  the  most  splendid  that 
has  yet  been  portrayed  in  Europe  or  any  other  part 
of  the  world.  Toward  Beauport,  Charlebourg,  and 
Lorette,  the  view  is  diversified  with  every  trait  that  can 
render  a  landscape  rich,  full,  and  complete ;  the  fore- 
ground shows  the  river  St.  Charles  meandering  for 
many  miles  through  a  rich  and  fertile  valley,  embellish^ 


APPENDIX  TO  THE  CAPTIVE  PATRIOT. 


47 


1      " 


ed  by  a  succession  of  objects  that  diffuses  an  unrivalled 
animation  over  the  whole  scene.     The  three  villages 
with  their  respective  churches,  and  many  handsome 
detached  houses  in  the  vicinity,  seated  on  gently  rising 
eminences,  form  so  many  distinct  points  of  view ;  the 
intervals   between   them   display   many   of   the   most 
strongly  marked  specimens  of  forest  scenery,  and  the 
surrounding  country  everywhere  an  appearance  of  fer* 
tility  and  good  cultivation,  upon  which  the  eye  of  the 
spectator  wanders  with  careless  delight.     As  the  pros- 
pect recedes  it  is  still  interesting,  the  land  rising  in 
gradation,  height  over  height,  having  the  interval  be* 
tween  succeeding  elevations  filled  up  with  primeval 
forests,  until  the  whole  is  terminated  by  a  stupendous 
ridge  of  mountains,  where  lofty  forms  are  dimly  seen 
through  the  aerial  expanse.     The  sense  of  vision  is 
gratified  to  the  utmost,  and  the  spectator  never  fails  to 
turn  with  regret  from  the  contemplation  of  what  is  al* 
lowed  to  be  one  of  the  most  superb  views  in  nature. 

Nor  is  it  on  this  side  only  that  the  attention  is  arrest* 
ed ;  for,  turning  toward  the  basin,  which  is  about  two 
miles  across,  a  scene  presents  itself  that  is  not  the  less 
gratifying  for  being  made  a  secondary  one ;  it  is  en* 
livened  by  the  ever-changing  variety  of  ships  coming 
up  to,  and  leaving  the  port ;  on  the  right  hand, 
Point  Levi,  with  its  church  and  group  of  white  houses 


:.'      I 


li" 


1'  i' 


y'I 

■  1 

tt   iifj 

}"'[,■: 

' 

?*■    ''-i 

V  *i 

' 

f  • 

1 

" '  '>'i 

1 L  A.'  pi 

1  ': 

II 

h:} 

1    "i 

' 

in 

m 

( 

« 

^KT'i 

1 
1 

K.: 


48 


AJTENDIX  TO  THE  CAPTIVE  PATRIOT. 


-—several  other  promontories  on  the  same  shore,  cloth- 
ed with  lofty  trees,  and  the  very  animation  attendant  on 
the  constant  arrival  and  departure  of  ferryboats ;  in 
front  the  western  end  of  the  beautiful  and  picturesque 
Island  of  Orleans,  displaying  charming  and  well-culti- 
vated slopes  down  almost  to  the  w^ater's  edge,  backed 
by  lofty  and  thick  woods,  and  everywhere  decorated 
with  neat  farm-houses,  present  altogether  an  interest- 
ing and  agreeable  subject  to  the  observer.  In  fine  still 
weather  the  mirage,  or  reflection,  of  the  diflJerent 
objects  around  the  margin,  in  all  their  variety  of  colour- 
ing, are  thrown  across  the  unruflied  surface  of  the 
Avater  with  an  almost  incredible  brilliance.  On  the 
plains  of  Abraham,  from  the  precipice  that  overlooks 
the  timber  grounds,  where  an  incessant  sound  of  ac- 
tivity prevails,  the  St.  Lawrence  is  seen  rolling  its 
majestic  wave,  studded  with  many  a  sail  from  the  stately 
ship  down  to  the  humble  fishing  boat ;  the  opposite 
bank,  extending  up  the  river,  is  highly  cultivated,  and 
the  houses  thickly  strewed  by  the  main  road,  from  this 
height  and  distance  have  the  appearance  of  an  almost 
uninterrupted  village,  as  far  as  the  eye  can  reach  in 
that  direction.  The  country  to  the  southward  rises  by 
a  very  gentle  ascent,  and  the  whole  view,  which  is 
richly  embellished  by  alternations  of  Avater,  woodland, 
and  cultivation,  is  bounded  by  remote  and  lofty  moun- 


{ 


>i ) 


' 


^ 


APl'BNDIX  TO  THE  CAPTIVE  PATRIOT. 


49 


A-. 


lains,  softening  shade  by  shade,  until  they  melt  into 

air. 

SERF. 

The  present  political  and  domestic  condition  of  the 
hahitans  of  Lower  Canada,  give  full  license  for  the  ap- 
plication to  them  of  the  term  serf. 

RIEGO. 

In  1820,  RiEGO  was  among  the  most  influential  and 
active  of  the  Spanish  Patriots ;  and  upon  the  restora- 
tion of  despotism,  in  1824,  he  suffered  execution. 

At  an  anniversary  of  the  Spanish  Benevolent  Society 
of  the  city  of  New  York,  in  1838,  when  immediately 
after  one  of  the  toasts  the  band  played  Riego's  March, 
the  Rev.  Dr.  Varela,  the  companion  of  the  Patriot,  and 
who,  together  with  Dr.  Thomas  Gener,  came  to  this 
country,  became  visibly  agitated,  and  arising  from  his 
seat,  expressed  himself  in  the  following  language  : 

Gentlemen — I  had  resolved  to  keep  silence  on  this 

occasion,  but  a  military  band,  striking  up  the  hymn  of 

Spanish  Liberty,  has  awakened  in  my  bosom  the  most 

terrible  emotions,  which  I  cannot  repress,  and  I  can 

with  difficulty  utter.     Words  cannot  flow  in  proper  order 

when  ideas   present  themselves  without  any ;  and  I 

expect  from  your  goodness  that  you  will  excuse  the 

faults  of  my  language,  on  account  of  the   vehement 

i^igitation  of  my  spirits.    I  had  the  honour  of  being  the 

E 


-r 


! 
,1 


ii 


m 


ii 


m 

m 

k 

i 


i 


ft' 


do 


APPENDIX  TO  trtE  CAPTlVE  PATKtOV. 


companion  of  Riego ;  in  the  Spanish  Cortes  we  strug-* 
gled  together ;  together  we  met  danger,  he  perished :  I 
have  found  an  asylum  on  this  soil  of  liberty.  What  a 
ftiiiltitude  of  ideas  crowd  upon  my  memory?  What 
contending  feelings  of  sadness  and  of  joy  move  my  soul 
upon  recalling  those  memorable  scenes,  upon  hearing 
that  hymn  of  glory,  which  fourteen  years  ago  caused 
my  boi^om  to  heave,  and  moi'e  especially  now,  when 
thai  hymn  of  freemen  is  sung  in  a  foreign  land  by  a 
Spanish  Society,  accompanied  by  the  beating  of  hands  ! 
Yes,  my  friends,  you  have  aroused  in  my  bosom  a  fire 
smouldering  there,  but  never  extinguished.  M5''  wishes 
are  your  wishes,  and  may  it  please  Heaven  that  Spaiil 
may  never  again  have  a  Ferdinand,  and  that  it  may 
produ(ie  many  Riegos.  I  am  not  animated  by  a  spirit 
of  revenge ;  I  do  not  speak  from  resentment ;  this  is 
not  elicited  by  my  present  emotions,  nor  by  an  over- 
wrought imagination ;  it  is,  my  friends,  the  fruit  of 
many  years  of  study  and  profound  meditation,  all  of 
which  confirm  me  more  in  my  belief  of  the  principles 
of  religion  and  liberty.  Vnfortunately,  many  of  my 
brother  clergymen  beUet)e  these  two  incompatible,  and 
they  give  themselves  up  to  a  strange  delusion ;  buf, 
gentlemen,  you  are  just,  and  you  will  grant  that  Spairt 
has  a  large  number  of  virtuous  ecclesiastics,  in  whosd 
bosoms  are  engraved  the  principle  of  freedom,  because 


I 

a 
a 
i 


I)  1    I 


^>  I  ) 


i 


APPENDIX  TO  THE  CAPTIVE  PATRIOT. 


51 


0)    i  I 


there  is  engraved  there  the  principle  of  all  that  is  good  ; 
and  on  them  I  trust,  and  from  them  I  expect  the  triumph 
and  glory  of  the  church.  Gentlemen,  allow  me  to  offer, 
in  conclusion,  this  sentiment :  The  diffusion  of  hnow^ 
ledge  and  of  charity  for  the  destruction  of  fanaticism 
and  the  glory  of  religion- 

TELL. 

Nor  Tell  disclose,  through  peril  and  alarm, 
The  might  that  slumbers  in  a  peasant^s  arm. 

Campbell's  Pleasures  or  Hope. 

William  Tell — one  of  the  celebrated  heroes  of 
Switzerland,  who  restored  liberty  to  their  oppressed 
country  in  1307.  The  conspiracy  which  he  had  form- 
ed with  others  was  suspected,  when  the  Austrian  gover- 
nor, Herman  Gesler,  more  clearly  to  ascertain  the  spirit 
of  the  people,  ordered  a  hat  to  be  raised  on  a  pole,  and 
homage  to  be  paid  tp  it  as  to  himself  Tell  refused, 
and  when  seized  for  disobedience,  was  directed  to  shoot 
an  arrow  at  an  apple  placed  on  the  head  of  his  own 
8on,  or  else  to  be  dragged  with  his  child  to  immediate 
death.  He  cleft  the  apple  in  two  without  injuring  his 
son,  and  declared  that  the  other  arrow,  which  he  had 
in  his  girdle,  was  intended  for  the  heart  of  the  governor 
if  he  had  hurt  his  child.  This  boldness  occasioned  his 
confinement,  and  the  governor,  afraid  of  a  rescue,  ca^-» 


■j'i|  ■'.! 


'iu  ; 


•■»■  '^ 

I'' 

ft 

-I  w 


f 


52 


APPENDIX  TO  THE  CAPTIVE  PATRIOT. 


ried  him  across  the  lake  to  Liicem ;  but  a  violent  storm 
obliged  Gesler,  who  knew  the  nautical  skill  of  his  pri- 
soner, to  intrust  to  him  the  helm  of  his  own  preserva- 
tion. Tell,  freed  from  his  fetters,  steered  the  boat  to  a 
rock  still  called  by  his  name,  leaped  ashore,  and  es- 
caped into  the  mountains.  The  governor  afterward 
was  shot  by  the  hand  of  Tell,  and  the  Swiss,  roused  to 
arms  by  the  conduct  of  their  hero,  drove  away  their 
Austrian  masters,  and  established  the  independence  of 
their  country. ^—Lempier. 

BONNIVARD. 

The  Prison  or  Chillon — situated  between  Clarens 
and  Villeneuve,  which  last  is  at  one  extremity  of  the 
Lake  of  Geneva.  On  its  left  are  the  entrances  of  the 
Rhone,  and  opposite  are  the  heights  of  Meillerie  and 
the  range  of  Alps  above  Boveret  and  St.  Gingo. 

Near  it,  on  a  hill  behind  it,  is  a  torrent ;  below  it, 
washing  its  walls,  the  lake  has  been  fathomed  to  the 
depth  of  800  feet,  (French  measure  ;)  within  it  are  a 
range  of  dungeons,  in  which  the  early  reformers,  and 
subsequently  state  prisoners,  were  confined.  Across 
one  of  the  vaults  is  a  beam  black  with  age,  on  which 
we  were  informed  that  the  condemned  were  formerly 
executed.  In  the  cells  are  seven  pillars,  or  rather 
eight,  one  being  half  emerged  in  the  wall ;  in  some  of 


')  .k  I 


I 


[  ^ 


)         li      ' 


APPENDIX  TO  THE  CAPTIVE  PATRIOT. 


53 


them  there  are  rings  for  the  fetters  and  the  fettered  ;  in 
the  pavement  the  steps  of  Bonnivard  have  left  their 
traces  ;  he  was  confined  here  several  years. 

Chillon  !  thy  prison  is  a  holy  place, 

And  thy  sad  floor  an  altar — for  'twas  trod, 

Until  his  very  steps  have  left  a  trace, 
Worn,  as  if  thy  cold  pavement  were  a  sod. 

By  Bonnivard  ! — May  none  those  marks  efface, 

For  they  appeal  from  tyranny  to  God. 

Lord  Byron. 

LAFAYETTE. 
Gilbert  Mottier,  Marquis  de  Lafayette.  He  was 
born  at  Chj^  -nnc,  near  Brion  de  Auvergne,  Septem- 
ber 6,  1757.  li;  was  educated  at  Paris,  appointed  an 
officer  in  the  guards  of  Honour,  and  at  the  age  of  six- 
teen married  the  granddaughter  of  the  Duke  of  Noiles, 
In  1777  he  left  France  secretly,  and  hastened  to  Ame- 
rica ;  arriving  at  Charleston,  S.  C,  at  the  age  of  nine- 
teen, he  received  a  command  in  the  continential  army, 
and  raised  and  equipped  a  body  of  men  at  his  own  ex- 
pense. Congress  passed  various  resolutions,  honour- 
able to  him,  and  after  displaying-  a  chivalric  gallantry  at 
Yorktown,  the  young  Marquis  once  more  set  sail  for 
his  native  country.  In  1784,  he  complied  with  the  va- 
rious urgent  entreaties  to  visit  this  country,  and  was 
everywhere  received  with  the  most  touching  marks  of 
gratitude  and  esteem.     During  the  French  revolution 

be  appeared  the  warm  and  consistent  friend  of  liberty^ 

E2 


\4 


t\  •  i- 


ii  ■ 

M 


i -si 


54 


APPENDIX  TO  THE  CAPTIVE  PATRIOT. 


but  the  enemy  of  licenciousness,  and  as  commander-in- 
chief  of  the  National  Guards  of  Paris,  saved  the  lives 
of  the  royal  family  at  Versailles.  He  organized  the 
club  of  Fuillans,  in  opposition  to  the  infamous  Jacobin 
club,  the  members  of  which  he  openly  denounced.  He 
was  appointed,  in  1792,  one  of  the  Major  Generals  of 
the  French  Armies,  and  vainly  endeavoured  to  save 
the  king.  His  exertions  in  the  cause  of  humanity  pro- 
cured his  denunciation  before  the  bar  of  the  assembly, 
A  price  was  set  upon  his  head,  and  he  was  compelled 
to  fly  from  France.  But  he  was  taken  by  the  Aus- 
trians,  and  confined  in  the  castle  of  Olmutz,  until  Au- 
gust 25,  1797,  when  he  was  released.  Lafayette  op- 
posed the  usurpation  of  Napoleon,  whose  conciliatory 
offers  he  refused  without  a  single  exception.  In  Au* 
gust,  1824,  Lafayette  landed  at  New  York,  and  passed 
triumphantly  through  each  of  the  states,  and  was  re- 
ceived everywhere  with  every  demonstration  of  delight. 
The  war-worn  veterans  of  the  revolution  hailed  his  re- 
turn to  the  scenes  of  his  earliest  exploits,  and  there 
was  not  one  dissentient  voice  in  the  acclamations 
which  welcomed  him.  September  7,  1825,  the  frigate 
Brandywine  restored  him  to  his  country.  In  the  De- 
cember following,  congress  granted  him  two  hundred 
thousand  dollars,  and  a  township  of  land.  During  the 
late  French  revorution,  Lafayette  was  appointed  gene-* 


H'l 


9 


fl 


APPENDIX  TO  THE  CAPTIVE  PATRIOT. 


55 


ral-in-cbief  of  the  National  Guards,  an  office  which  he 
resigned  in  September.  The  death  of  this  great  man, 
which  took  place  at  Paris  on  the  21st  May,  1834,  was 
duly  noticed  in  France  and  this  country.  A  political 
opponent  once  out  of  the  arena,  was  to  Lafayette  no 
longer  anything  but  a  friend ;  the  circle  of  those  ad- 
mitted to  share  his  private  hospitality  was  so  ample, 
that  it  comprised  the  partisans  of  nearly  every  doctrine, 
and  almost  the  natives  of  every  clime ;  but  no  feeling 
was  ever  wounded,  nor  even  a  prejudice  assailed  with- 
in its  sacred  limits.  It  was,  doubtless,  to  this  admi- 
rable feature  in  his  private  character  that  he  owed  much 
of  the  affectionate  esteem  with  which  every  party  re- 
garded him,  and  which  turned  Paris,  frivolous,  volatile 
Paris,  into  a  city  of  mourning  at  his  death. —  Cyclopc 
dia  of  History. 

AV  A  R  R  E  N  . 
Joseph  Warren — a  Major  General  in  the  American 
army  of  the  Revolution.  He  was  born  in  Roxbury, 
Mass.,  in  1740,  and  was  a  graduate  of  Harvard  college. 
Directing  his  attention  to  medical  studies,  he  in  a  few 
years  became  one  of  the  most  eminent  physicians  in 
Boston.  But  he  lived  at  a  period  when  greater  acts 
claimed  his  attention  than  those  which  related  particu- 
larly to  his  profession.  His  country  needed  his  efforts, 
and  his  zeal  and  courage  would  not  permit  him  to  shrink 


\l 


'  \ 


m 


■m 


■I 


h^i 


I 


f 


56 


APPENDIX  TO  THE  CAPTIVE  PATRIOT. 


'I. 


I  .ill'; 


from  any  labours  or  dangers.  His  eloquence  and  his  ta- 
lents  as  a  writer  were  displayed  on  many  occasions  from 
the  year  in  which  the  stamp  act  was  passed  to  the  com- 
mencement of  the  war.  He  was  a  bold  politician. 
While  many  were  wavering  w  ith  regard  to  the  measures 
which  should  be  adopted,  he  contended  that  every  kind 
of  taxation,  whether  external  or  internal,  was  tyranny, 
and  ought  immediately  to  be  resisted ;  and  he  believed 
that  America  was  able  to  withstand  any  force  that  could 
be  sent  against  her.  From  the  year  1768,  he  was  a 
principal  member  of  a  secret  meeting  or  caucus  in  Bos* 
ton,  which  had  great  influence  on  the  concerns  of  the 
country.  With  all  his  boldness,  and  decision,  and  zeal, 
he  was  circumspect  and  wise.  In  this  assembly  the 
plans  of  defence  were  matured.  After  the  destruction 
of  the  tea,  it  was  no  longer  kept  secret.  He  was  twice 
chosen  the  public  orator  of  the  town,  on  the  anniver- 
sary of  the  massacre,  and  his  orations  breathe  the  ener- 
gy of  a  great  and  daring  mind.  It  was  he,  who,  on  th© 
evening  before  the  battle  df  Lexington,  obtained  infor- 
mation of  the  intended  expedition  against  Concord,  and 
at  ten  o'clock  at  night  despatched  an  express  to  Messrs. 
Hancock  and  Adams,  who  were  at  Lexington,  to  warn 
them  of  their  danger.  He,  himself,  on  the  next  day, 
the  memorable  19th  of  April,  was  very  active.  It  is 
said  in  General  Heath's  memoirs,  that  a  ball  took  off 


h    ) 


:) 


I.  v\ 


APPENDIX  TO  THE  CAPTIVE  PATRIOT. 


57 


^ 


part  of  his  earlock.     In  the  confused  state  of  the  army, 
which  soon  assembled  at  Cambridge,  he  had  vast  in* 
fluence  in  preserving  order  among  the  troops.     After 
the  departure  of  Hancock  to  congress,  he  was  chosen 
president   of  the   provincial   congress,   in   his   place. 
Four  days  previously  to  the  battle  of  Bunker's,  or  Breed's 
Hill,  he   received  his   commission  of  major   general. 
When  the  intrenchments  were  made  upon  the  fated 
spot,  to  encourage  the  men  within  the  lines,  he  went 
down  from  Cambridge  and  joined  them  as  a  volunteer 
on  the  eventful  day  of  the  battle,  June  17.     Just  as 
the  retreat  commenced,  a  ball  struck  him  in  the  head, 
*^ '  ^      and  he  died  in  the  trenches.     It  is  said  that  while  en- 
gaged in  an  attempt  to  sustain  the  men  in  the  lines,  a 
British  officer  recognised  hini  and  shot  him.     He  was 
the  first  victim  of  rank  that  fell  in  the  struggle  with 
Great  Britain  for  American  Liberty. — American  Biogra^ 
phy, 

DE   KALB. 

Baron  de  Kalb — a  Major  General  in  the  American 
army  of  the  Revolution.  He  was  a  German  by  birth, 
and  had  long  been  in  the  French  service.  In  the  bat- 
tle near  Camden,  August  16,  1780,  he  fell  after  recei- 
ving eleven  wounds  in  his  vigorous  exertions  to  pre- 
vent the  defeat  of  the  Americans.  It  is  stated  by  some 
historians,  that  De  Kalb  was  opposed  to  the  encounter 


m 


I 


I, 


58 


APPENDIX  TO  THE  CAPTIVE  PATRIOT. 


i^      ^ 


■   !  - 


in  which  he  fell  being  entered  upon  at  the  time,  upon 
the  ground  of  a  probability  of  defeat,  for  which  he  was 
taunted  with  the  intimation  of  a  want  of  courage  by 
General  Gates,  who  was  chief  in  command,  and  who 
was  then  desirous  to  engage  the  enemy.     Indignant  at 
this,  dismounting  from  his  horse,  he  said  to  General 
Gates — '*  Well,  Sir,  we  shall  see  who^has  courage,"  and 
marched  at  the  head  of  his  division  on  foot.     He  died 
on  the  19th  of  August,  in  the  forty-eighth  year  of  his  age, 
having  served  three  years  with  high  reputation.     His 
life  is  generally  considered  as  having  been  sacrificed. 
His  last  moments  were  spent  in  dictating  a  letter,  which 
expressed  his  warm  affection  for  the  men  and  officers 
of  his  division,  and  his  admiration  of  their  firmness  and 
courage  in  withstanding' a  superior  force.     An  orna- 
mental tree  was  planted  at  the  head  of  his  grave  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  Camden,  and  congress  resolved  that  a 
monument  should  be  erected  to  his  memory  at  Annapo? 
lis,  with  a  very  honourable  inscription. — American  Bio-^ 
graphy. 

PULASKI. 
Count  Pulaski — a  Brigadier  General  in  the  Ame-« 
rican  army  of  the  Revolution.  He  was  a  Polander  of 
high  birth,  who,  with  a  few  men,  in  1771,  carried  off 
King  Stanislaus  from  the  middle  of  his  capital,  though 
gurrounded  by  a  numerous  body  of  guards  and  a  Prus^ 


API»END1X  TO  tHE  CAPTIVE  PATRIOT. 


59 


I 


sian  army.  The  king  soon  escaped,  and  declared 
Pulaski  an  outlaw.  After  his  arrival  in  this  country, 
he  offered  his  services  to  congress,  and  was  honoured 
with  the  rank  of  Brigadier  General.  He  discovered 
the  greatest  intrepidity  in  an  engagement  with  a  party 
of  the  British  near  Charleston,  in  May,  1779.  In  the 
assault  upon  Savannah,  October  9,  by  General  Lincoln 
and  Count  D*Estaing>  Pulaski  was  wounded  at  the  head 
of  two  hundred  horsemen,  as  he  was  galloping  into  the 
town  with  the  intention  of  charging  on  the  rear.  He 
died  on  the  11th,  and  congress  resolved  that  a  monu- 
ment should  be  erected  to  his  memory. — American 
Biography. 

MORGAN. 
Daniel  Morgan — a  Brigadier  General  in  the  Ame*- 
rican  army  of  the  Revolution.  He  was  born  in  New 
Jersey,  and  removed  to  Virginia  in  1775.  He  enlisted 
in  Braddock's  expedition  as  a  private  soldier,  and,  on 
the  defeat  of  that  general,  returned  to  his  occupation  as 
a  farmer.  At  the  commencement  of  the  revolution  he 
Was  appointed  to  the  command  of  a  troop  of  horse,  and 
joined  the  army  under  Washington,  then  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  Boston.  He  distinguished  himself  very 
much  in  the  expedition  against  Quebec,  where  he  fell 
into  the  hands  of  the  enemy.  On  the  exchange  of  pri- 
ioners,  he  rejoined  the  American  army,  was  appointed 


•I 


Wli 


"  >; 


pr  If 


ftv. 


m 


m 


60 


APPENDIX  TO  THE  CAPTIVE  PATRIOT- 


II     ' 


H 


1, 


■-I- 


i 


to  the  command  of  a  select  rifle  corps,  and  detached  to 
assist  General  Gates  on  the  northern  frontier,  where  he 
contributed  materially  to  the  capture  of  General  Bur* 
goyne.  After  a  short  retirement  from  service,  on  ac- 
count of  ill  health,  he  was  appointed  Brigadier  General 
by  brevet,  and  commanded  the  force  by  which  Tarlton 
was  routed  at  the  battle  of  Cowpens.  He  soon  after 
resigned  his  commission.  In  1794,  he  commanded  the 
militia  of  Virginia,  called  out  to  suppress  the  insurrec- 
tion of  Pennsylvania,  and  continued  in  the  service  till 
1795.  He  afterward  was  elected  to  a  seat  in  congress* 
He  died  in  1 799. — American  Biography. 

A  writer  of  American  history  says — "  The  year  on 
which  we  now  enter  (1781 ,)  decided  the  important  con* 
test  which  engaged  the  attention  of  Europe,  and  of  all 
the  civilized  world,  in  favour  of  liberty,  and  we  must 
add  of  justice.  The  boon  of  independence  was  not, 
however,  gained  without  adding  to  the  long  list  of 
widows  and  orphans,  nor  without  augmenting  the  cata- 
logue of  cruelties  more  horrible  than  those  of  the  Indian 
tribes,  because  perpetrated  by  those  who  had  no  accu- 
mulated antipathy  of  ages  to  palliate  their  hostility,  but 
who  only  yesterday  were  friends  and  brothers.  The 
inhabitants  of  the  Carolinas  endured  calamity  and  dis- 
tress from  which  humanity  revolts.  About  equally 
divided  in  political  sentiments,  village  was  opposed  to 


L    \ 


y 


i 


APPENDIX  TO  THE  CAPTIVE  PATRIOT. 


61 


-1 '  '  'I  '4 


3d  to 
re  he 
Bur- 
Q  ac- 
neral 
.rlton 
after 
jdthe 
irrec* 
;e  till 
gress> 

jar  on 
con* 
of  all 
must 
s  not, 
list  of 
e  cata- 
Indian 
)  accu- 
Lty,  but 
The 
,nd  dis- 
equally 
osed  to 


f.   \ 


village,  and  neighbour  to  neighbour,  and  then  hostility 
became  embittered  by  attack  and  reprisal,  until  pillage, 
burning,  and  murder  became  familiar  to  all.  Each 
party  aimed  at  the  extirpation  of  the  other,  and  the 
whole  country  presented  a  scene  of  slaughter  and  blood. 
The  American  generals  seized  every  occasion  to  dis- 
countenance such  vindictive  and  barbarous  conduct, 
while,  with  few  exceptions,  the  British  permitted,  and 
even  accelerated  their  perpetration. 

The  reduction  of  Savannah  and  Charleston  had  en- 
couraged the  British  to  a  viororous  invasion  of  North 
Carolina.  The  whole  army  of  General  Greene,  which 
had,  at  the  close  of  the  last  year,  advanced  from  Hills- 
borough to  Charlottetown,  consisted  of  about  two  thou- 
sand men,  more  than  half  of  whom  were  militia.  With 
this  inconsiderable  force,  miserably  provided.  Gene- 
ral Greene  took  the  field  against  a  superior  regular 
force,  which  had  already  marched  in  triumph  two  hun- 
dred miles  from  the  point  of  its  embarkation.  Soon 
after  General  Greene  took  the  command,  he  divided  his 
force,  and  sent  General  Morgan  with  a  respectable  de- 
tachment to  the  western  extremity  of  South  Carolina, 
where  the  tories  were  destroying  the  whigs  without 
mercy  and  without  restraint,  and  marched  with  the  main 
body  to  Hick's  Creek,  on  the  north  side  of  the  Pedee. 
On  the  entrance  of  General  Morgan  into  the  district  of 


J 


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It '  •  ; 


62 


AITKNDIX   TO  THK  TAPTIVE  PATRIOT* 


j^f 


Ninety-six,  Lord  Comwallis,  who  was  preparing  (ot 
tho  invasion  of  North  Carolina,  that  he  might  not  leave 
an  enemy  in  his  rear,  ordered  Colonel  Tarlton  to  pro- 
ceed with  about  eleven  hundred  men,  and  drive  him 
from  his  position.  Tarlton  had  two  field  pieces,  and  a 
superiority  both  of  infantry  and  cavalry.  With  these 
advantages  ho  engaged  Morgan  at  the  Cowpens,  near 
Pacolet  River,  on  the  1 7th  of  January.  The  British, 
led  to  the  attack  by  Tarlton  himself,  advanced  with  a 
shout,  and  poured  in  an  incessant  fire  of  musketry. 
The  American  militia,  though  they  received  the  charge 
with  firmness,  were  soon  compelled  to  fall  back  in  rear 
of  their  second  line  ;  and  this  line,  in  its  turn,  after  an 
obstinate  conflict,  was  compelled  to  retreat  to  the  caval* 
ry.  At  this  juncture,  Lieutenant  Colonel  Washington 
made  a  successful  charge  on  Captain  Oglevie,  who, 
with  about  forty  dragoons,  was  cutting  down  the  re* 
treating  malitia  ;  Lieutenant  Colonel  Howard  almost  at 
the  same  moment  rallied  the  continental  troops,  and 
charged  with  fixed  bayonet,  and  the  militia  instantly 
followed  the  example.  By  these  sudden  and  unexpect- 
ed charges,  the  British,  who  had  considered  the  fate  of 
the  day  decided,  were  thrown  into  confusion,  and  driven 
from  the  ground  with  great  slaughter.  Upward  of  three 
hundred  of  the  British  were  killed  or  wounded,  and 
above   five   hundred  taken    prisoners,   eight   hundred 


I 


ig  for 

leave 

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these 

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British, 

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sketry. 

charge 

in  rear 

ifter  an 

3  caval* 

hington 

B,  who, 

the  re* 

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nstantly 

lexpect- 

e  fate  of 

d  driven 

of  three 

led,  and 

hundred 


I 


APPENDIX  TO  THE  CAPTIVE  PATRIOT. 


63 


muskets,  two  field  pieces,  two  standards,  thirty-fivo 
baggage  wagons,  and  one  hundred  dragoon  horses  fell 
into  the  hands  of  the  conquerors.  Of  the  Americans, 
twelve  men  only  were  killed,  and  sixty  wounded. 
Congress,  in  honour  of  the  good  conduct  of  General 
Morgan,  presented  him  a  gold  medal." 

H  A  Y  N  E  . 
Isaac   Hayne — a  native  of  South   Carolini.     He 

distinguished  himself  by  his  services  during  ^he  F^evolu- 
tion.  After  the  capture  of  Charleston,  he  took  an  o  i.h 
of  allegiance  to  Great  Britain,  with  the  express  stirila- 
tion  that  he  should  not  bear  arms  against  hi »  .  ountry. 
When,  in  violation  of  British  promises,  he  was  sum- 
moned to  join  the  British  standard,  he  refused,  and  was 
in  consequence  condemned  by  a  court  of  inquiry,  and 
hanged  on  the  4th  of  August,  1781. — Cyclopedia  of 
History. 

ALLEN. 
Ethan  Allen — a  Brigadier  Ge^  oral  in  the  Ameri- 
can army  of  the  Revolution.  He  was  born  at  Salisbury, 
Connecticut,  and  while  he  was  young,  he  emigrated 
with  his  parents  to  Vermont.  At  the  commencement 
of  the  disturbances  in  this  territory,  about  the  year 
1 770,  he  took  a  most  active  part  in  favour  of  the  Green 
Mountain  Boys,  as  the  settlers  were  then  called,  in 
opposition  to  the  government  of  New  York.     An  act  of 


ii-l 


I  iR 


I    I' 


^.    I 


A. 


''^i 


fO-A 


V 


I 


64 


APPENDIX  TO  THE  CAPTIVE  PATRIOT. 


i\ 


Mi 


H 


I 


)- 


I: 


outlawry  was  passed  against  him  by  this  state,  (then 
province,)  and  500  guineas  were  offered  for  his  appre- 
hension ;  but  his  party  was  too  numerous  and  faithful 
to  permit  him  to  be  disturbed  by  an  apprehension  for 
his  safety ;  in  all  the  struggles  of  the  day  he  was  suc- 
cessful ;  and  he  not  only  proved  a  valuable  friend  of 
those  whose  cause  he  had  espoused,  but  he  was  humane 
and  generous  toward  those  with  whom  he  had  to  con- 
tend. When  called  to  take  the  field,  he  showed  him- 
self an  able  leader  and  an  intrepid  soldier. 

The  news  of  the  battle  of  Lexington  determined 
Colonel  Allen  to  engage  on  the  side  of  his  country,  and 
inspired  him  with  the  desire  of  demonstrating  his  attach- 
ment to  liberty  by  some  bold  exploit.  While  his  mind 
was  in  this  state,  a  plan  for  taking  Ticonderoga  and 
Crown  Point  by  surprise,  which  was  formed  by  several 
gentlemen  in  Connecticut,  was  communicated  to  him, 
and  he  readily  engaged  in  the  project.  Receiving  di- 
rections from  the  general  assembly  of  Connecticut  to 
raise  the  Green  Mountain  Boys,  and  conduct  the  enter- 
prise, he  collected  two  hundred  and  thirty  of  the  hardy 
settlers,  and  proceeded  to  Castleton.  Here  he  was  un- 
expectedly joined  by  Colonel  Arnold,  who  had  been 
commissioned  by  the  Massachusetts  committee  to  raise 
four  hundred  men,  and  effect  the  same  object,  which 
was  now  about  to  be  accomplished.     As  he  had  not 


I 


■'^'i 

Ir 


APPENDIX  TO  THE  CAPTIVE  PATRIOT. 


65 


(then 
ippre- 
aithful 
on  for 
s  suc- 
3nd  of 
umane 
o  con* 
d  him- 

rmined 
ry,  and 
attach- 
s  mind 
m  and 
several 
o  him, 
ing  di- 
icut  to 
enter- 
hardy 
^as  un- 
d  been 
o  raise 
which 
lad  not 


iVxi 


ir 


% 


raised  the  men  he  was  admitted  to  act  as  an  assistant 
to  Colonel  Allen.     They  reached  the  lake  opposite  Ti- 
conderoga  on  the  evening  of  the  9th  of  May,  1775. 
With  the  utmost  difficulty  boats  were  procured,  and 
eighty-three  men  were  landed  near  the  garrison.     The 
approach  of  day  rendering  it  dangerous  to  wait  for  the 
rear,  it  was  determined  immediately  to  proceed.     Colo- 
nel Allen  then   addressed  his  men,  representing  that 
they  had  been  for  a  number  of  years  a  scourge  to  arbi- 
trary power,  and  famed  for  their  valour,  and  concluded 
with  saying,  "  I  propose  to  advance  before  you,  and  in 
person  conduct  you  through  the  wicket  gate,  and  you 
that  will  go  with  me  voluntarily  in  this  desperate  at- 
tempt, poise  your  firelocks."     At  the  head  of  the  centre 
file  he  marched  instantly  to  the  gate,  where  a  sentry 
snapped  his  gun  at  him  and  retreated  through  the  co- 
vered way ;  he  pressed  forward  into  the  fort,  and  form- 
ed his  men  on  the  parade  in  such  a  manner  as  to  face 
two  opposite  barracks.     Three  huzzas  awaked  the  gar- 
rison.    A  sentry  who  asked  quarters  pointed  out  the 
apartments  of  the  commanding  officer  ;  and  Allen  with 
a  drawn  sword  over  the  head  of  Captain  De  la  Place, 
who  was  undressed,  demanded  the  surrender  of  the 
fort.     "  By  what  authority  do  you  demand  it  ?"  inquired 
the  astonished  commander.     "  I  demand  it,"  said  Allen, 

♦*  in  the  name  of  the  Great  Jehovah  and  of  the  Conti- 

FJ3 


ii' 


in 


a  '\ 


,':! 


\l 


!<  ;  •  ■  1 


t! 


v-  !''! 


ij 


.1 


m 


6e 


APPENDIX  TO  THE  CAPTIVE  PATRIOT. 


i 


A 


:k 


r-'f 


nental  Congress."  The  summons  could  not  be  diso- 
beyed, and  the  fort  with  its  very  valuable  stores  and 
forty-nine  prisoners  was  immediately  surrendered. 
Crown  Point  was  taken  the  same  day,  and  the  capture 
of  a  sloop  of  war,  soon  afterward,  made  Allen  and  his 
brave  party  complete  masters  of  Lake  Champlain. 

In  the  fall  of  1775,  he  was  sent  twice  into  Canada  to 
observe  the  dispositions  of  the  people,  and  attach  them, 
if  possible,  to  the  American  cause.     During  his  last 
tour  Colonel  Brown  met  him,  and  proposed  an  attack 
upon  Montreal  in  concert.     The  proposal  was  eagerly 
embraced,  and  Colonel  Allen,  with  one  hundred  and 
ten  men,  near  eighty  of  whom  were  Canadians,  cross- 
ed the  river  in  the  night  of  September  24.     In  the 
morning  he  waited  with  impatience  for  the  signal  from 
Colonel  Brown,  wha  agreed  to  co-operate  with  him ; 
but  he  waited  in  vain.     He  made  a  resolute  defence 
against  an  attack  of  five  hundred  men,  and  it  was  not 
till  his  own  party  was  reduced  by  desertions  to  the  num- 
ber of  thirty-one,  and  he  had  retreated  near  a  mile,  that 
he  surrendered. 

He  was  now  kept  for  some  time  in  irons,  and  treated 
with  great  cruelty.  He  was  sent  to  England  as  a  pri- 
soner, being  assured  that  the  halter  would  be  the  re- 
ward of  his  rebellion  when  he  arrived  there.  After  hi& 
arrival,  about  the  middle  of  December,  he  was  lodged 


«  I 


.1 


APPENDIX  TO  THE  CAPTIVE  PATRIOT. 


67 


h 


diso- 
js  and 
dered. 
japture 
nd  his 
1. 

ad  a  to 

them, 

is  last 

aiiaci^ 

agerly 

id  and 

cross- 

[n  the 

il  from 

L  him ; 

efence 

^as  not 

3  num- 

ie,  that 

reated 
a  pri- 
he  re- 
ter  his- 
lodged 


*J 


for  a  short  time  in  Pendennis  castle,  near  Falmouth. 
On  the  8th  of  January,  1776,  he  was  put  on  board  a 
frigate,  and  by  a  circuitous  route  carried  to  Halifax* 
Here  he  remained  confined  in  the  jail  from  June  to  Oc- 
tober, when  he  was  removed  to  New  York.  During 
the  passage  to  this  place,  Captain  Burke,  a  daring  pri- 
soner, proposed  to  kill  the  British  captain  and  seize  the 
frigate  ;  but  Colonel  Allen  refused  to  engage  in  the  plot, 
ard  was  probably  the  means  of  preserving  the  life  of 
Captain  Smith,  who  had  treated  him  very  politely.  He 
was  kept  at  New  York  about  a  year  and  a  half,  some- 
times imprisoned,  and  sometimes  permitted  to  be  on 
parole.  While  here  he  had  an  opportunity  to  observe 
the  inhuman  manner  in  which  the  American  prisoners 
were  treated.  In  one  of  the  churches,  in  which  they 
were  crowded,  he  saw  seven  lying  dead  at  one  time, 
and  others  biting  pieces  of  chips  from  hunger.  He  cal- 
culated, that  of  the  prisoners  taken  at  Long  Island  and 
Fort  Washington,  near  2000  perished  by  hunger  and 
cold,  or  inconvenience  of  diseases  occasioned  by  the 
impurity  of  their  prisons. 

Colonel  Allen  was  exchanged  for  Colonel  Campbell, 
May  6th,  1778,  and  after  having  repaired  to  head- 
quarters, and  offered  his  services  to  General  Washing- 
ton, in  case  his  health  should  be  restored,  he  returned 
to  Vermont.     His  arrival  on  the  evening  of  the  last  of 


!  ,  . 


■  I 


)(' 


;  m 


Fr  11 


.1   ,  ;' 
I' 

Ml:     • 


lift  ■-*!  ^■,^ 


m 


'a    I  , 


I'      I 


/' 


68 


APPENDIX  TO  THE  CAPTIVE  PATRIOT. 


May  gave  his  friends  great  joy — and  it  was  announced 
by  the  discharge  of  cannon.  As  an  expression  of  con- 
fidence in  his  patriotism  and  military  talents,  he  was 
very  soon  appointed  to  the  command  of  the  state  militia. 
He  died  suddenly  at  his  estate  in  Colchester,  February 
13,  1789, — American  Biography. 

GREEKS   AND    GREECE. 

The  hardy  struggle  of  the  Greeks  for  political  exist- 
ence— and  the  sufferings  of  Greece  while  under  the 
despotism  of  Turkey,  are  too  well  known  to  require  any 
detailed  account  in  order  to  be  understood. 

TRENCK. 

Francis,  Baron  De  Trenck — a  Prusian  noble- 
man, who  by  some  of  his  acts  drew  upon  him  the  dis- 
pleasure of  his  government,  and  was  imprisoned.  After 
a  long  captivity  he  escaped,  and  published  his  memoirs, 
which  contain  a  curious  account  of  his  adventures  and 
sufferings.  He  came  to  France  during  the  revolution, 
was  arrested  as  a  suspected  person,  and  by  the  revo- 
lutionary tribunal  sentenced  to  the  guillotine.  He  suf- 
fered in  the  summer  of  1794,  aged  75. — Lempicr. 

BARNEVELDT. 

John  d'Olden  Barneveldt — A  statesman  of  great 

abilities — Ambassador  from  Holland  to  Elizabeth  in 

En^nd,  and  to  Henry  IV.  of  France.     His  attempts 

to  limit  the  authority  of  Maurice,  the  second  Stadtholder 


o 

V 


0 

s 


I 


M 


i 


APPENDIX  TO  THE  CAPTIVE  PATRIOT. 


69 


mnced 
)f  con- 
le  was 
nilitia. 
bruary 


exist- 
er  the 
re  any 


of  Holland,  raised  him  enemies,  by  whose  virulence  he 
was  accused  of  designs  to  deliver  the  country  to  the 
Spaniards,  and  in  consequence  of  this  false  charge,  he 
was  tried  and  beheaded  in  1619.  His  sons,  William  and 
Rene,  resented  the  cruelty  exercised  against  their  father, 
and  though  the  elder  escaped,  Rene  felt  the  punishment 
due  to  a  conspirator.  The  mother  stepped  in  defence 
of  her  son,  and  when  Maurice  expressed  surprise  to 
see  her  eager  to  save  him,  when  she  had  seen  his  father 
fall  imlamented,  she  indignantly  replied,  "  I  would  not 
solicit  a  pardon  for  my  husband,  for  he  was  innocent, 
I  ask  it  for  my  son,  for  he  is  guilty." — Lempier, 


•w 


:         ^1 


m 


(1 


noble- 
le  dis- 
Afler 
moirs, 
3s  and 
ution, 
revo- 
e  suf- 


m  r-ii 


m 

:  'i  • 


i  •! 


great 
th  in 
empts 
tolder 


m 


* 


!.l 


I  'i 


11 


WOMAN. 

But  a  woman  among  all  these  have  I  not  found. 

ECCL.  CHAP.  YII.  V.  2B. 


I. 

Woman  !  whatever  thy  rank  ar  station^ 

Thou  art  the  mystery  of  life  ; 
The  pride  and  jest  of  ev'ry  nation — ► 

Whether  the  widow,  maid,  or  wife ; 
Loving  and  loved — ^thy  heart  is  won ; 
Peceiving  and  deceived — luidone. 

Thy  mind  we'd  know :  a  vane  we  see ! 

Who  scans  the  abyss  of  ocean  ? 
There  's  nought  a  more  uncertainty — 

'Tis  but  a  dubious  notion. 
The  wise  man  told  his  thousand  through. 
And  never  found  one  woman  true. 

III. 
Sister  of  pride — companion  of  our  woes  ? 

How  false  thy  vows  of  love  to  all  ? 
They're  melted  sooner  than  the  autumn  snows. 

Like  a  bright  flake  they  move  and  fall : 
Yet,  all  pursue  the  glittering  prize — 
0  could  we  win,  and  not  despig;e  I 


¥ 


WOMAN. 


VI 


IV. 
Awake  revenge  in  woman's  hearty 

What  power  can  then  deliver  ? 
So  sure  tKe  blow — with  poisonous  dart, 

The  offending  wretch  must  shiver  ! 
Nor  stays  her  hand  the  shaft  to  fling, 
Though  it  came  back  herself  to  stingy 

V. 

When  her  brightest  hopes  with  joy  are  crown' J» 

From  a  soft,  melting  eye  we  see. 
Sweet  smiles  of  peace,  shed  on  all  around— 

A  very  saint  she  se^ms  to  be  ; 
But  be  her  state  of  bliss  deranged, 
At  once  into  a  fiend  she's  changed ! 

To  share  his  toil,  to  man  was  given ; 

A  being — fair  as  from  above  : 
When  breathes  her  roice  the  tones  of  Heavetti 

Woman's  the  pledge  of  hope  and  love ; 
But  with  her  spirit  tum'd  to  evil, 
Then-^she's  nature's  very  devil ! 


i 


II 


it 
I-  i- 


ft  •}l 


iS" 


Vl'. 


m 


1-..  j| 

!.'"■  •  r 


I  yp. 


i|    K  'I 


I  , 


.'fl 


it 


WOMAN'S   SMILE. 


I. 

To  shade  or  cliff  to  tune  the  lyre, 
The  bards  may  from  the  world  retire, 

And  hail  the  rosy  dawn  ; 
Behold  the  sunbeam's  glitt'ring  rays 
From  eastern  sky — with  eager  gaze — 

On  dewdrops  o'er  the  lawn. 
II. 
Let  minstrels  chant  in  hours  of  night, 
To  lucent  moonbeams,  soft  and  bright. 

Their  loves — their  hopes  and  fears 
Let  pampered  fools  the  snow  path  tread. 
With  dappled  steed,  and  gilded  sled — 

And  bid  for  smiles — and  tears. 
IIL 
No  morning  sunbeam's  russet  glow, 
Nor  silver  moonlit  paths  of  snow, 

Shall  e'er  my  heart  beguile  : 
My  ever  source  of  joy  and  love. 
The  richest  gift  from  heaven  above — 

'TiS  LOVELY  woman's  SMILE. 


i 


^4«L'>' 


THE  PATRON  OF  BUBBLE  PORT; 

OR,  THE  PEDLER  AND  THE  FLAX. 


i  ;■ 


Once  travelling  by  stage  coach,  on  the  evening  of  a 
cold  winter's  day,  I  was  put  down  at  an  inn  in  the  vil- 
lage of  Bubble  Port ;  where,  by  one  of  my  fellow-travel- 
lers, I  was  introduced  to  General  Jobson,  the  patron  of 
the  village,  as  he  was  called,  whose  manner  was  that 
of  a  pompous,  swaggering  and  bustling  fellow. 

"  But,  where  is  Bubble  Port  ?" 

A  Gernian  Prince,  (Muskau,)  in  his  Letters  on  Eng- 
land and  Ireland,  says,  "  that  at  B— ^,  in  the  west  of  Ire- 
land, in  a  company  of  twenty  persons,  nobody  knew 
that  any  such  place  as  Carlsbad  and  Prague  existed ; 
and  the  information  that  they  were  situated  in  Bo- 
hemia did  not  niuch  mend  the  matter — -Bohemia  being 
not  less  unknown."  Now,  then,  gentle  reader,  if  you 
be  not  of  the  class  of  these  twenty  Irishmen  ;  or,  as  ig- 
norant of  geography  as  a  country  squire,  of  which  Prince 
Muskau  tells,  "  as  having  searched  long  and  patiently 
in  a  map  of  Europe  for  the  United  States,'*  and  will  be 


(■' 


;¥: 


m 


74 


THE  PATRON  OF  BUBBLE  PORT  ,' 


\mgii 


Wi- 


ll 


11 


It.! 


h    I 


pleased  to  spread  before  you  a  modern  map  of  the  Pe- 
ninsula of  Michigan,  you  may,  without  difficulty,  find  the 
location  of  this  identical  Bubble  Port. 

Like  Brussels,  in  Belgium,  Bubble  Port  stands  upon 
a  gentle  eminence,  with  gentle  waters,  (and  raging  ones 
too,)  flowing  round  it ;  but  in  its  origin,  it  is  most  un- 
like the  European  city  I  have  named.  Of  Brussels,  it 
is  related,  the  beginning  was  in  this  wise  :  St.  Gery,  a 
bishop  of  Cambray,  erected  a  small  chapel  on  the  banks 
of  the  Senne,  which  flows  into  the  Scheldt,  and  there 
preached  the  gospel  to  the  surrounding  peasantry.  The 
beauty  of  the  situation,  and  the  piety  and  eloquence  of 
the  preacher,  attracted  many  to  the  spot  j  and  their  united 
numbers  soon  formed  a  large  village,  which  in  time  be- 
came a  grand  city,  that  has  been  called  "  the  ornament 
of  the  Netherlands."  Not  so  with  Bubble  Port — ^but  as 
my  story  tells. 

The  patron  of  Bubble  Port  was  believed  to  be  a 
stranger  to  me.  However,  after  a  few  moments'  inter- 
view with  him,  I  became  satisfied  I  had  known  the  in- 
dividual before. 

There  once  lived  in  the  village  of  C ,  situated  m 

one  of  the  interior  counties  of  the  state  of  New  York, 
one  Moses  Miller,  who  was  extensively  engaged  in  the 
manufacture  of  tin  ware ;  and  by  his  dealings  in  that 
article,  and  Yankee   notions,  he  had  raised   himself 


S4^\_^}i 


cm,  THE  PEDLER  AND  THE  FLAX. 


75 


iie   Pe- 
find  the 

Is  upon 
ig  ones 
lost  un- 
jsels,  it 
Grcry,  a 
;  banks 
d  there 
.  The 
gnce  of 
united 
me  be- 
lament 
-but  as 

)  be  a 
inter- 
he  in- 

ted  in 

York, 
in  the 
n  that 
imself 


from  little  to  considerable  wealth,  and  some  considera- 
tion. 

This  Miller  disposed  of  the  commodities  of  his  manu- 
facture principally  to  pedlers,  by  the  wholesale — from 
whom  he  generally  received  in  return,  as  part  payment 
for  his  wares,  such  articles  as  they,  the  pedlers,  picked 
up  in  their  trafficking  excursions  through  the  country, 
which  usually  consisted  of  coarse  furs ,  tallow,  beeswax, 
feathers,  <SfC.,  and  occasionally  small  parcels  of  hackled 
flax  ;  and  as  these  articles  came  to  the  hands  of  Miller, 
he  held  them  again  for  sale — trading  at  all  times,  by 
wholesale  or  retail,  just  as  he  could  light  upon  pur- 
xihasers.  But  whenever  such  articles  of  trade  accumu- 
lated upon  Miller's  hands,  in  large  quantities,  he  sent 
them  for  market  to  one  of  the  seaport  towns. 

Among  the  venders  of  Miller's  wares,  was  one  whom 
he  considered  the  first  for  cuteness  and  proficiency  in 
the  business,  as  he  had  never  failed  to  make  extensive 
sales  upon  every  voyage,  and  to  bring  in  good  returns 
for  himself  and  Miller  ;  and  this  indi'^idual  was  the  very 
indentical  General  Jobson  ;  but  who  was  then  familiarly 
called  honest  Job  Jobson-— d^  cognomen  he  had  acquired 
by  means  of  his  unremitted  pretensions  to  honesty  and 
fair  dealings — although  the  business  he  followed  was 
not  such  as  hardly  to  allow  one  to  deal  fairly  and 
iionestly,  and  at  the  same  time  make  it  the  most  profit- 


•■.»;. 


Mh"i 


t; 


m 

m 


•  r 


•i 


76 


THE  PATRON  OF  BUBBLE  PORT  ; 


t.? 


I 

4 


able.  NovorthcU  ss,  it  was  the  general  admission  that 
.lob  .lobsoii  was,  without  dispute,  as  honest  and  fair  in 
his  dealings  as  any  pedler  that  travelled  the  country  ; 
and  in  Miller's  individual  estimation,  he  was  all  he  could 
wish  him — for  while  he  had  gone  on,  largely  bettering  his 
own  circumstances,  he  had  contributed  much  to  Miller's 
wealth  ;  aud  if  Miller  did  not  really  like  either  the  looks 
or  manner  of  the  man — he  had  been  well  pleased  with 
his  operations. 

Now,  honest  .lob  .lobson,  in  some  respects,  was  an 
oddity  }  or,  in  other  words,  his  head  was  a  very  oddly 
shaped  one  ;  such  as  I  have  not  the  ability  exactly  to 
describe.  The  phrenologists  would  have  said,  "that 
his  organs  o^  reverence  and  credulity  were  full,  while  his 
organs  of  benevolence  and  Jirmncss  were  deficient — that 
while  his  organ  of  conscientiousness  was  very  small, 
his  organ  of  acquisitiveness  was  extremely  large,  and 
that  his  organ  of  secrctiveness  was,  proportionately,  less 
than  credulity.'''' 

It  so  happened  on  one  occasion,  quite  early  in  the 
spring,  that  Miller  had  a  very  large  quantity  of  flax, 
which  had  been  delivered  by  his  pedlers  in  payment 
for  his  wares.  Among  those  who  had  delivered  the 
bulk  of  this  article  was  honest  Job  Jobson,  who  pro- 
posed to  make  a  still  farther  contribution  of  a  consider- 
able amount.     Considering  the  quantity  he  had  already 


i 


N 


on  that 
fair  in 
)imtry  ; 
e  could 
•ing  his 
Vliller's 
e  looks 
3(1  with 

was  an 
Y  oddly 
actly  to 
I,  "  that 
fiile  his 
— that 
small, 
^e,  and 
ly, less 

in  the 
)f  flax, 
lyment 
ed  the 
o  pro- 
nsider- 
Iready 


OR,  THE  PEDLER  AND  THE  FLAX. 


77 


on  hand,  and  being  likely  to  get  in  still  more,  Miller 
was  forbid  the  hope  of  finding  a  market  for  his  flax  by 
the  demands  of  his  own  neighbourhood,  and  had  re- 
solved to  send  it  to  New  York  to  be  disposed  of;  and 

*  with  an  intention  to  have  it  put  in  bales  for  such  pur- 
pose, as  well  as  with  a  view  to  place  it  where  it  would 
be  least  liable  to  be  injured  by  the  casualty  of  Are,  he 

4  caused  the  whole  quantity  of  his  flax  on  hand  to  bo  re- 
moved from  his  shop,  where  it  had  been  kept,  and 
stored  in  a  room  erected  in  the  loft  of  a  shed ;  which 
shed  stood  entirely  apart  from  his  other  buildings.  In 
the  loft  of  this  shed  he  deemed  his  flax  would  be  safe 
and  secure.  But  exactly  so-^it  did  not  prove  !  As 
having  placed  his  flax  in  the  loft,  when  Miller 
came  again,  some  days  after,  to  visit  it,  it  appeared  to 
him  that  the  quantity  had  rather  diminished  than  in- 
creased, notwithstanding  there  had  been  added  to  it, 
since  the  flax  had  been  removed  to  the  loft,  several 
small  parcels,  and  a  considerable  one  brought  in  by 
Jobson. 

That  a  portion  of  his  property  had  been  surrep- 
titiously taken  away  by  some  one,  Miller  conceived  he 
had  no  reason  to  doubt ;  and  from  the  circumstance  of 
.Jobson  having  given  notice  of  his  intention  to  deliver  a 
farther  quantity  very  soon,  with  the  fact  that  the  parcel 

last  delivered  by  him  had  far  exceeded  the  amount  of 

G3 


<         \ 


.  il   I 
1    I. 


ii 


'•  ,-.| 


hi 


! 


i'      t 


(," 


■i   >l 


M 


78 


THE  PATRON  OF  BUBBLE  PORT  ; 


'.f 


r. 


the  article  he  had  first  proposed  to  deliver,  or  that  he 
had  stated  to  have  had  in  his  possession,  or  within 
his  attainment,  Miller's  suspicions  fell  upon  honest  Job 
Jobson,  though  reluctantly  so.  In  ruminating  the  mat- 
ter in  his  mind,  the  thought  struck  him  that  it  might  be 
possible  Jobson  was  intending  to  sell  him  a  parcel  of 
his  own  flax ;  and  therefore,  in  order  to  ascertain  the 
justness  of  his  suspicions,  and  to  detect,  if  possible,  the 
author  of  the  vjllany.  Miller  resolved  to  keep  a  look-out 
on  his  property  for  a  few  nights. 

The  door,  which  constituted  the  only  entrance  to  tne 
apartment  in  the  loft  in  which  Miller  had  stored  his 
flax,  (and  which  was  kept  fastened  only  by  a  common 
padlock,  that  might  be  loosed  with  almost  any  key  be- 
longing to  that  description  of  locks,)  opened  from  a 
corner  upon  the  side  of  the  room  toward  the  interior  of 
the  shed,  and  was  ascended  to  by  a  flight  of  roughly 
constructed  stairs,  standing  in  a  kind  of  tumble-down 
manner  at  the  corner,  and  fastened  to  the  wall  of  the 
shed.  Under  this  staircase,  at  an  early  hour  on  the 
next  evening.  Miller  took  his  station. 

The  first  part  of  the  night  was  dark  and  stormy,  and 
the  rain  fell  fast,  and  in  heavy  drops ;  but  twelve 
o'clock  came  and  passed,  and  no  one  had  made  an  ap- 
pearance to  disturb  Miller's  property.  He,  however, 
continued  on  his  post  until  near  two  o'clock  in  the 


i    i 


-i 


lat  he 
within 
3st  Job 
le  mat- 
ight  be 
reel  of 
ill  the 
)le,  the 
Dok-oiit 

I  to  trie 
ed  his 
Dmmon 
tey  be- 
from  a 
erior  of 
oughly 
3 -down 
of  the 
on  the 

ry,  and 
twelve 

an  ap^ 
)wever, 

in  the 


i 


OR,  THE  PEDLER  AND  THE  FLAX. 


79 


and 


morning,  like  a  soldier  tenanted  in  his  sentry  box, 
was  then  on  the  point  of  relieving  himself,  and  to  retire, 
when  some  one  was  heard  cautiously  approaching,  and 
Miller  drew  himself  close  and  quiet  within  his  hiding 
place.  It  was  still  hazy,  although  it  had  ceased  to 
rain,  and  the  clouds  had  so  thinned  and  lighted  up  that 
a  person  might  readily  be  discovered  at  a  short  distance, 
out  of  doors  ;  and  even  within  the  shed,  which  was  open 
to  the  weather  on  one  side,  the  form  of  an  individual 
could  be  perceived.  A  few  moments  after  the  sound 
of  footsteps  had  been  heard  by  Miller,  a  person  entered 
the  shed,  ascended  the  stairs  to  the  door  of  the  room 
in  the  loft  containing  the  flax,  unlocked  the  door  and 
entered ;  and  in  a  few  minutes  returned,  relocked  the 
door,  and  descended  the  stairs  with  a  bundle  of  flax 
upon  his  shoulder,  which  he  had  taken  from  Miller's 
store-room. 

As  the  fellow  arrived  at  the  foot  of  the  staircase  with 
his  bundle  of  flax,  he  stumbled  ;  then,  as  he  recovered 
himself.  Miller  stepped  from  behind  the  stairs,  where  he 
had  stood  secreted,  and  igniting  a  loco  foco  match, 
which  he  had  prepared  for  the  purpose,  thrust  it  into 
the  flax,  and  then  instantly  sprang  back  to  his  hiding 
place.  The  fellow  replaced  the  bundle  of  flax  upon 
his  shoulder,  and  hurriedly  passed  out  of  the  shed. 
After  he  had  gained  a  little  distance  from  the  shed, 


:!?•■ 


■('■ 


?  '  I  L 

pi  ■  ■ , . 
11     ! 


Ii 


k     \l 


if  1! 


I.  I 


!f} 


80 


THE  PATRON  OF  BUBBLE  PORT  ; 


Miller  came  out  and  followed,  in  order  to  witness  the 
result  of  the  matter,  as  well  as  for  the  purpose  of  per- 
fectly satisfying  himself  of  the  identity  of  the  individual 
who  had  been  thus  feloniously  interfering  with  his 
property.  At  first  the  match  did  but  little,  and  there 
were  some  doubts  in  Miller's  mind  of  its  accomplishing 
the  object ;  but  before  the  flax  had  been  carried  any 
considerable  distance  from  the  shed,  it  burned  out 
brightly ! 

At  the  first  glitter  of  the  light,  being  ignorant  of  the 
cause,  and  supposing  it  to  proceed  from  a  lantern  borne 
by  some  person  approaching,  it  only  occasioned  the 
fellow  with  the  flax  to  quicken  his  pace,  which  he  con- 
tinued to  do  as  the  light  increased,  until  he  was  moving 
upon  a  run.  But,  as  the  increased  velocity,  with  which 
the  flax  was  borne,  only  occasioned  it  to  burn  the  more, 
so,  while  he  supposed  he  was  running  from  the  light, 
the  more  it  blazed  around  him.  At  length  he  became 
aware  his  bundle  was  on  fire,  threw  it  down,  and  re- 
coiled from  it  with  aflright.  He  stood  for  a  moment,  and 
looked  upon  the  blazing  flax  with  a  countenance  de- 
picting as  much  horror  and  dismay  as  may  be  supposed 
to  have  been  felt  by  the  Sodomites  when  they  beheld 
their  city  m  flames,  and  then  fled  and  left  his  bundle 
burning  on  the  ground  ;  but  not  until  Miller,  who  had 
kept  himself  undiscovered,  had  had  an  opportunity  dis* 


ti 

fl 

c< 

01 


fd 


X 


1 


1 

I 


OR,  THE  PEDLF.R  AND  THE  FLAX. 


81 


^ 


1% 


■I 


tinctly  to  see  that  the  fellow  who  had  been  taking  his 
flax,  was  no  other  than  honest  Job  Jobson. 

Having  so  far  effected  his  object,  as  to  ascertain,  to  a 
certainty,  who  it  was  that  had  been  stealing  his  property, 
Miller  retired  to  his  room  and  his  bed,  and  did  not  rise 
on  that  day  until  a  late  hour. 

On  going  into  his  shop,  he  found  Jobson  there,  where 
he,  (Jobson,)  had  been  waiting  since  an  early  hour  in 
the  morning,  with  a  countenance  exhibiting  great  de* 
jection  and  sorrow. 

"  Oh !"  said  Miller,  on  entering  his  shop,  "  how  are 
you,  Mr.  Jobson  ?  or  honest  Job  Jobson,  as  I  believe  you 
are  now  called." 

**  I  wish  to  speak  with  you  alone,  sir,"  said  Jobson. 

"  You  have  been  very  successful  in  collecting  flax 
this  spring,"  said  Miller. 

"  I  wish  to  see  yeu  i'i  your  counting-room  ?"  said 
Jobson. 

*'  Have  you  brought  me  the  remaining  quantity  of 
flax  you  promised  to  deliver  this  spring  ?"  asked  Miller. 

*'  Can  I  see  you  alone,  sir  ?"  asked  Jobson. 

*'  T  desire  to  have  delivered  all  the  flax  you  intend  to 
let  me  have  this  spring,  before  I  start  for  the  east, 
which  I  shall  do  m  a  few  days,"  said  Miller. 

^'  Can  I  see  you  alone,  sir,  in  your  counting-room  for 


ii^ 


i\     4 


82 


THE  PATRON  OF  BUBBLE  PORT  ', 


P 


-ti' 


J!'     I 


i\    t 


a  few  minutes  ?"  asked  Jobson,  with  increased  and  ap- 
parent earnestness. 

''  Oh !  ah !  yes,"  said  Miller,  "  walk  in,  sir,"  and 
Jobson  followed  him  into  the  counting-room  of  his 
tin  shop — when  the  door  being  closed,  Jobson  in  a 
very  dejected  and  sorrowful  manner,  informed  Miller 
*'  he  wished  to  make  to  him  a  confidential  communica- 
tion." 

"  Well,"  said  Miller,  "  go  on." 

"  Then,  I — I— to  tell  you  the  truth,  Mr.  Miller,"  said 
Jobson,  "  I  have  no  more  flax  to  let  you  have  this 
spring." 

"  Why,  how  does  it  so  happen  ?"  inquired  Miller. 

u  i__i — Mr.  Miller — I  must  tell  you  the  truth.  The 
last  parcel  of  flax  I  let  you  have  was  some  of  your  own 
property  !" 

*'  Ah !  how  was  that  ?"  inquired  Miller,  appearing  to 
be  greatly  astonished. 

*'  Why  !"  said  Jobson,  "  when  you  removed  your  flax 
to  the  loft  in  the  shed,  it  suggested  itself  to  me  that  I 
could  take  enough  of  it,  (having  a  key  in  my  possession 
which  would  readily  unlock  the  padlock  upon  the  door,) 
to  pay  the  balance  of  your  account  against  me,  without 
its  being  known  or  suspected  by  you," 

'<  But,  what  did  you  do  ?" 


f 


( 


I 


I 


..ti:' 


V, 


!l       I 


and  ap- 

r,"  and 
of  his 
on  in  a 
I  Miller 
munica- 


er,"  said 
ave  this 

[iller. 
1.     The 
our  own 


>aring  to 


^oiir  flax 
e  that  I 

session 
e  door,) 

without 


I 


• 


I 


OKi  THE  TEDLER  AND   THE   FLAX.  83f 

"  What  did  I  do !"  said  Jobson  ;  "  on  thenext  dark 
night  that  occurred,  I  went  to  your  store-room  in  th<3 
loft  of  the  shed  and  took  away  a  large  parcel  of  flax, 
which  on  the  day  following  I  brought  here  and  sold  to 
you  ;  and  at  the  same  lime  gave  you  a  promise  to  bring 
you  a  farther  quantity,  which  I  then  stated  to  have 
in  my  possession.  That,  however,  was  not  the  fact, 
as  it   was  my   intention   to   get   it   from  your  store" 


room. 


?j 


"  Then  you  have  been  taking  more  of  my  flax,"  said 
Miller. 

'*  Hear  me,"  replied  Jobson.  "  I  did  go  again  to  your 
store-room,  and  I  brought  away  another  parcel  of  your' 
flax,  but  on  taking  it  home,  ?,nd  weighing  it,  I  found  the 
quantity  I  had  got  would  not  amount  to  suflicient  to 
satisfy  your  demand  against  me." 

"  What  then  ?"  interrupted  Miller. 

"  I — I — went  to  your  store-room  again  last  night," 
continued  Jobson,  trembling  and  faltering  in  speech^ 
*'and  attempted  to  bring  away  another  parceL" 

"  Well !  and  you  succeeded,"  said  Miller. 

**  I  did  not,"  replied  Jobson,  appearing  extremely  hor- 
ror stricken,  ''  as  it  was  against  the  laws  of  God  that 
I  should  do  so." 

"  And  against  the  laws  of  man  too,"  said  Miller. 
But  how  was  the  matter?" 


t\ 


!  r 


■  "  i'  I 


ill  1,1 


V 


p}''\  R'l 


1  ^ 


i-iii. '. 


!i; 


; 


'i 


S4 


THE  PATHOJN   Ul-    BUiJ15L£  I'UK't  ; 


!|i 


.;l 


■it  »f 


v/:< 


.1  ;'i 


I    ' 


*'  I  shall  tell  you  all,"  replied  Jobson.  "  Last  night, 
after  I  had  taken  a  bundle  of  flax  from  your  store-room, 
I  started  with  it  upon  my  bacj:  for  home,  bttt  the  ven' 
geance  of  the  Lord  overtook  me  hy  the  way,  andjire  came 
down  from  heaven  and  burned  it  up  /" 

"  This  is  a  very  extraordinary  affair,"  replied  Miller. 

That  thp  transaction  was  a  very  extraordinary  affair, 
honest  Job  Jobson  then  believed  ;  and  his  proposition 
yy-'^  to  -jiake  immediate  restitution  to  Miller  for  the 
dtmrtge  ho  had  done  him,  upon  condition  that  the  mat- 
tei  shcu/J  not  be  made  public. 

iviilie.  agreed  to  keep  the  affair,  which  Jobson  sup- 
posed he  had  been  the  first  to  communicate,  a  secret,  in 
tonsidtration  of  being  restituted  according  to  the  Mo- 
saic law ;  and  Jobson  paid  Miller  double  for  the  flax 
he  had  stolen. 

Nevertheless,  after  Miller  had  got  his  pay — the  story 
came  out.  Some  sp.id  it  was  Jobson,  himself,  who  had 
occasioned  its  disclosure,  by  attempting  to  fathom  the 
trick  which  had  been  played  upon  him  ;  and  others  as- 
serted that  Miller  had  tolJ  it  as  a  story  too  good  to 
keep.  How  it  was,  I  know  not.  But  the  result  of  the 
matter  then  was,  that  Miller  declined  having  any  far- 
ther dealings  with  Jobson — and  Jobson  found  himself 
out  of  business,  without  the  means  of  getting  in  again  ; 
and  the  report  of  the  transaction  having  made  the  at- 


VT 


it  night, 
e-rooni, 
he  ven' 
re  came 

Miller. 
J  affair, 
position 

for  the 
the  mat- 
ion  sup- 
iscret,  in 
the  Mo- 

the  flax 

le  storv 
^ho  had 
lom  the 
Ihers  as- 
good  to 
lit  of  the 
|any  far- 
himself 

again  ; 

the  at- 


t 


OR,  THE  PEDLER  AND  THE  FLAX. 


85 


hiosphere  of  C — ,  too  affected  for  his  longer  residence 
there,  honest  Job  Jobson  settled  up  his  affairs  in  that 
place,  and  with  about  six  hundred  dollars  in  his  pocket, 
emigrated  to  the  west,  where  he  chanced  to  be  dropped 
down  on  the  site  of  Bubble  Port. 

The  spot  was  then  covered  with  a  primeval  forest ; 
but  the  discernment  of  the  ex-pedler  pointed  it  out  to 
him  as  a  place  for  a  speculation ;  he  purchased  as 
much  of  the  land  as  his  six  hundred  dollars  would  pay 
for — a  portion  of  which  he  immediately  converted  into 
a  city,  (a  paper  city,)  by  causing  it  to  be  surveyed  and 
staked  off  into  building  lots  and  streets.  The  streets 
Were  designated  Main,  Pearl,  Washington,  &c.  and 
the  whole  was  then  exemplified  and  shown  off  upon  a 
large  sheet  of  lithographic  printing,  and  the  lots  of- 
fered for  sale  :  and  there  being  a  great  many  men  in 
th  ^ountry  who  were  not  ex-pedlers,  the  lots  met  with 
a  ready  sale,  and  the  village  grew  apace  ;  while  ho- 
nest Job  Jobson,  that  was,  grew  in  riches — and  then  to 
be  captain,  major,  colonel,  and  general — and  General 
Jobson  is  now  the  acknowledged  patron  of  Bubble  Port, 


H 


Hi, 


i 


IJ 


'I  f 


':^ 


m  > 


u.    •• 


uy 


1; 


;'i 


i^*'         'X-M-Jf. 


I   ( 


i  II 


li- 


I   I' 


ADDRESS  TO  A  LINNET, 

PERCHED  AT  MY  CASEMENT. 
Written  while  imprisoned  at  Toronto,  U.  0. 


Come,  gentle  warbler,  with  me  stay, 

And  here  thy  notes  prolong — 
There's  Freedom's  spirit  in  thy  lay, 

And  rapture  in  thy  song. 

Give  to  my  ear  those  strains  of  thine-— 

Then  let  oppression  rage  ! 
No  trembling  heart  shall  e'er  be  mine, 

Though  I've  Bajazet's  cage  ! 

Thou  may'st  have  sung  on  Chillon's  walls, 
And  perched  on  Olmutz's  towers, 

Or  hailed  the  morn  near  Ham's  dark  halls, 
Where  fate  as  sternly  lowers. 

But  scorn  not  here  to  swell  thy  throat- 
Wake  the  "  imprisoned  free,'* 
And  be  thy  theme — thy  chosen  note, 

UNCONQUtRBD  LiBIRTY  ? 


I 


!     Y 


bajazet's  cage. 

Though  bars  may  now  prescribe  my  lot, 

And  bolts  confine  me  here — 
Here  is  a  consecrated  spot : 

IVe  bathed  it  with  a  tear. 

And  though  the  tyrant's  iron  hands, 

(For  such  I  deem  they  be,) 
Now  bind  me  with  the  slave's  base  bands, 

In  spirit  still  Fm  free. 

Fear  not  to  rest  thee  near  my  grate  ; 

Believe  me  not  unkind  ; 
But  call  thee,  now,  thy  downy  mate, 

And  here  a  dwelling  find. 

Then,  as  each  morning's  early  glow, 

Shall  bid  thy  music  wake- — 
With  thee,  to  God,  my  heart  shall  bow, 

An  orison  to  make. 


87 


BAJAZET'S    CAGE. 

The  manner  in  which  I  was  shown  off  through  the 
Canadas,  while  held  a  prisoner  by  the  British  govern- 
ment, makes  the  expression  more  than  a  mere  allusion. 

Bajazet  I.  Emperor  of  Turkey,  succeeded  his 
father,  Amurat  L  1389.     He  conquered,  with  unusual 


I 

:4 


]i 


f 


M 


t 


1 


I'l; 


."it 


88 


BAJAZETS  CAGB. 


rapidity,  the  provinces  of  Bulgaria,  Macedonia,  and 
Thessaly  ;  and  after  he  had  made  the  Emperor  of  Con- 
stantinople tributary  to  his  power,  and  defeated  the  army 
of  Sigismund,  King  of  Hungary,  1396,  he  marched  to  at- 
tack Tamerlane,  in  the  east,  whom  he  treated  with  such 
contempt,  that  he  caused  his  ambassadors  to  be  shaved 
in  derision.  He  was,  however,  totally  defeated  near 
Angoury,  1402,  and  taken  prisoner ;  and  when  the  proud 
conqueror  asked  him  what  he  would  have  done  with 
him  if  he  had  obtained  the  victory,  Bajazet  answered, 
"  I  would  have  confined  you  in  an  iron  cage."  "  Such 
then  shall  be  thy  fate,"  rejoined  Tamerlane.  In  hjs 
cage,  Bajazet  behaved  with  his  native  fierceness,  ex- 
pecting that  his  sons  would  rescue  him  ;  but  when  he 
was  disappointed,  he  dashed  his  head  against  the  bars 
of  his  cage,  and  died,  1403,  at  Antioch  in  Pisidia.-^ 
Lempier. 

Chillon. — The  prison  of  Bonnivard. 

Olmutz. — A  prison  of  Austria,  in  which  the  Marquis 
de  la  Fayette  was  for  several  years  confined. 

Ham. — A  prison  of  France,  in  which  the  ex-ministers 
of  Charles  X.  were  confined. 


^  ,, 


I 


.'..^ 


ill' 


CHRISTMAS   HYMN. 


I. 

Father  of  light,  who  reigiis  above, 
Eternal  monarch  of  the  skic    , 

This  day — for  thy  unbounded  love, 
From  every  heart  let  incense  rise  : 

For  thou  hast  given  the  means  of  grace, 

To  all  of  our  attainted  race. 

II. 
We,  from  the  justice  of  thy  wrath, 

Were  driven  forth  in  sin  to  toil. 
And  tread  transgression's  rugged  path, 

Till  mingled  with  the  kindred  soil : 
When  lo,  we've  had  a  Saviour  given, 
On  whom  we  build  a  hope  of  Heaven, 

III. 
Death's  darkest  wing,  swept  o'er  the  land, 

And  man  was  sunk  in  guilt  and  shame, 
When  Jesus  with  a  bleeding  hand 

A  mediating  spirit  came  : 

His  life  a  sacrifice  he  gave, 

A  vile  OiTending  world  to  save. 

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90 


CHRISTMAS  HYMN. 


IV. 


Then  let  us  turn  our  hearts  to  God- 
Be  willing  every  knee  to  bend  ; 

And  thus  escape  the  aven^ng  rod- 
No  more  stern  justice  to  offend ; 

And  with  united  voices  raise 

To  God  the  glory  and  the  praise. 


> 


r     ■' 
I 


THE   MANIAC   GIRL. 


I  jl 


'        ' 


I. 

November's  breath  was  cold  and  chill, 
And  ice  o'er  every  pond  and  rill 

Fast  bound  the  bubbling  tide  ; 
Drear  fell  the  rain  from  gathering  clouds, 
And  chilled,  each  one  now  shiv'ring  crowds 

Around  the  fireside. 

II. 
Unmindful  of  the  patt'ring  storm, 

A  stranger  maid,  of  slender  form, 
Approach'd  with  hasty  pace  ; 

Bare  was  her  neck — wild  flew  each  tress  ; 

A  haggard  eye  and  wild  distress 
Is  seen — where  all  was  grace. 

III. 
Wan  was  her  cheek !  It  once  was  flush, 

And  crimsoned  o'er  with  beauty's  blush — 
But  now  each  charm  had  fled ; 

Wo  was  the  maid  !  no  friend  was  near, 

A  torn  distracted  heart  to  cheer. 
And  calm  the  maniac's  head. 


NVt.-, 


92 


THE  MANIAC  GIRL. 


1. 


IV. 
On  all  a  ghastly  stare  she  threw, 
As  if  each  stranger  face  she  knew  ; 

But  no  one  knew  the  maid  ! 
From  her  wild  tongue  no  tidings  fell, 
From  whence — from  whore,  no  one  could  tell, 

The  maniac  had  strayed. 


i 


■  i\ 


ODE  FOR  THE  FOURTH  OF  JULY. 

Written  for,  and  sung  at  a  celebration  in  1831. 


I    '  ►         '       I. 

Freemen,  arise  !  j^nd  ]et  each  heart  rejoice  ; 
Sing  the  glad  song  aloud  with  every  voice, 

To  glory's  bright  halo  on  high. 
Let  evVy  breath  wake  freedom's  holy  lay — 
Swell  the  joyful  strain — 'tis  liberty's  day, 

Our  country's  loved  "  fourth  of  July." 

IT. 
Hail  to  our  nation's  birth !  that  moment  blest — 
We  stand  alone,  the  experimental  test, 

Of  order,  liberty,  and  law  : 
All  equal  here,  with  peace  and  plenty  crowned  ; 
Our  monarch,  God — our  throne,  the  fields  around, 

From  which  no  regal  power  can  draw. 

III. 
Praise  be  to  Him !  whose  outstretch'd  arm  and  hand, 
Drove  tyrants  far  from  freedom's  chosen  land — 

The  new  asylum  of  the  world  ; 
Bade  Washington  stand  forth  in  armour  bright, 
To  guard  the  emblem  of  the  realms  of  light — • 

The  flag  our  fathers  had  unfurl'd, 


;    1 


V  i: 


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1 

V.I, 


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'I, 


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11 

I 
I 


^ 


94 


ODB  FOR  THE  FOURTH  OF  JULY. 


IV. 


H^il,  Lafayette  !  the  good,  the  great,  and  wise  ; 
For  thee,  let  pealing  anthems  shake  the  skies, 

And  long  the  changing  echoes  ring. 
Give  praise  once  more — strike  loud  the  heav'nly  lyre, 
Awake  each  breast  with  patriotic  fire, 

And  God's  eternal  praises  sing. 


I 


yre, 


TO  MY  ACHING  TOOTH. 

Written  while  imprisoned  in  the  Citadel  of  Quebcfc. 


I. 

Oh  !  bane  of  sleep — my  aching  tooth- 
Hast  thou  no  mitigating  ruth  ? 
Peccavi — (I  have  sinn'd) — in  sooth— 

But  why  decry  it  ? 
Our  good  M.D.  did  me  engage, 
Bolus  camphorce  should  assuage, 
And  nitric  acid  tame  thy  rage — » 

And  make  ye  quiet. 

II. 
But  thy  tormenting  throbs  again, 
Almost  distract  by  burning  brain, 
And  now  with  the  acutest  pain— 

My  thoughts  bewilder. 
Of  opiates,  to  keep  ye  still, 
Non  ahstante — yeVe  had  a  fill ; 
Yet  thou  defy'st  the  very  skill 

Of  Doctor  Guilder. 


i 


lip 


<(  ^ 


98 


to  MY  ACHING  TOOTH. 


III. 

Abracadabra  ! — Oh  thou  charm  ! 

I  pray  this  dental  curse  disarm  ; 

No  aconite  could  bring  more  harm — 
When  unabated. 

If  ill  like  this,  (though  just  and  pure,) 

Had'st  Satan  caused  him  to  endure, 

That  man  of  Uz,  had  then  most  sure- 
God  abnegated. 

IV. 

Sine  jaco — I  have  said  it, 

In  submission  there's  no  credit, 
And  howe'er  thy  loss  I  dread  it — ' 

Peace  Fll  bring  about. 
If  soporifics  will  not  do, 
I've  steel,  (not  tincture  of,)  for  you— « 
Obitur  dictum — I'll  have  it  true — 

"Thou  art  pluck' J  right  out." 

DOCTOR  GUILDER. 

This  gentleman  is  surgeon  of  the  Coldstream  Guards,  (a  regf» 
ment  of  Her  Britannic  Majesty's  household  troops,)  stationed  in  the' 
Citadel  of  Quebec,  in  1838  and  ]839.  The  doctor  is  a  Waterloo 
hero,  and  says  *'  he  can  cut  off  an  arm  or  a  leg,  and  mend  a  broken 
head — but  cannot  pull  a  tooth."  He  is  nevertheless,  a  very  good 
fellow,  though  a  little  vain,  as  most  men  of  learning  and  science  arc. 

A  recent  traveller  in  England,  in  commenting  upon  the  men  and 
manners  of  the  country,  says — '*  Englishmen  are  like  their  flints — 
cold,  angular,  and  furnished  with  cutting  edges  ;  but  the  steel  suc- 
ceeds in  striking  live  sparks  out  of  them,  thus  producing  light  by  a 
friendly  antagonism."    This  may  be  triM. 


*  I 


H 


t  • 


rood 

are. 

and 

Its— 

suc- 

Iby  a 


A  FRAGMENT. 


I  WAS  wending  my  way  through  a  newly  settled  di»-f 
trict  of  one  of  the  western  states.  My  conveyance  was 
a  horse  and  sulky.  It  was  at  a  season  of  the  year 
when  the  roads  were  much  broken  up,  and  I  was  told 
that  a  by-road,  (which  1  consented  to  take  as  it  brought 
me  more  direct  to  the  end  of  my  route,)  was  more  toler- 
able than  the  main  one  I  had  been  travelling,  and  so  I 
found  it  as  to  the  absence  of  deep  channels  of  mud  and 
sloughs  almost  interminable.  But,  then,  the  way  was 
hardly  entitled  to  the  name  of  road ;  being  in  some  of 
its  parts  little  more  than  '  trail  or  path  running  zigzag 
through  a  primeval  forest,  much  obstructed  by  fallen 
limbs  and  roots  of  trees  and  other  irregularities  ;  so  that 
although  my  horse  was  in  a  good  condition,  high  spirit- 
ed, and  would  have  of  his  own  will  wheeled  me  over 
the  ground  at  no  tardy  gait,  I  found  it  most  for  my 
safety  and  comfort  to  keep  him  reined  up  to  a  very 
moderate  pare  ;  and  it  was  past  nine  o'clock,  (although 
I  had  started  nt  a  very  earlv   hour  in  the  morning  on 

r 


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.      »   :    « 


! ; 


•N 


'111; 


98 


A  FRAGMENT. 


this  road,)  before  I  had  brought  up  at  the  first  public 
house  on  the  route,  which  was  within  a  distance  of 
less  than  six  miles. 

As  I  came  near  this  stopping  place  I  discovered  a 
small  boy,  an  almost  infant,  for  lie  was  scarce  of  five 
years,  trudging  along  by  the  way-side  toward  the  village 
schoolhousc.  On  my  first  noticing  him  I  observed  that 
the  little  fellow  had  a  very  spruce  appearance.  His 
dress  was  neat  and  elegant,  and  from  under  a  cloth  cap, 
abundant  light  and  shining  ringlets  flowed  upon  his 
neck  ;  while  over  his  shoulder  was  slung  his  satchel, 
in  which  he  was  carrying  his  books  and  his  luncheon. 
It  was  evident  he  had  recognised  my  approach  some 
time  before  his  presence  had  been  discovered  by  me,  as 
when  my  eye  first  fell  upon  his  form  I  was  very  near  to 
him,  and  he  was  then  in  the  act  of  turning  toward  me 
to  make  his  salutation,  which  he  did  by  a  very  graceful 
inclination  of  the  head.  He  stood  for  a  moment  on  the 
road  side  with  his  face  turned  full  upon  me,  and 
beaming  with  loveliness.  I  was  then  much  struck  with 
the  natural  beauty  of  the  child,  which  was  heightened 
by  the  eflfect  of  the  exertions  he  had  been  making  to 
get  along,  and  the  cold  breath  of  the  morning.  He  had 
an  almost  seraphic  appearance  as  I  thought. 

As  T  returned  his  bow,  *'  Good  morning  to  you,  my 
little  man,"  said  I. 


)[»*» 


I'  \^ 


\ 


A  FRAGMKN'T. 


99 


*'  Good  morning,  sir,"  was  liis  reply,  and  he  turned 
to  proceed  on  his  way. 

I  again  accosted  him,  and  inquired  if  he  did  not  find 
it  tiresome  walking,  and  cold. 

**  Pretty  cold,  sir,"  said  he,  as  he  puffed  against  the 
wind  which  was  blowing,  (though  not  heavily,)  in  his 
face.  "  But  my  mother  says  I  must  go  to  school,  or  I 
can  never  be  a  president  nor  a  governor,  so  I  don't  care 
for  the  cold,  nor  for  being  a  little  tired,  if  I  can  go  to 
school." 

With  this  answer  I  felt  no  little  amused,  and  pro- 
posed to  the  boy  that  he  should  ride  with  me  to  his 
schoolhouse,  the  door  of  which  I  was  to  pass  :  and 
upon  his  accepting  my  offer,  I  took  him  in  and  placed 
him  before  me  in  the  sulky.  We  were  then  a  hundred 
roods  or  more  from  the  schoolhouse,  but  so  pleased  was 
I  with  my  young  companion,  I  almost  wished  it  had 
been  thrice  the  distance,  and  felt  no  hurry  in  getting 
over  it ;  and  I  let  my  horse  make  it  with  the  slowest 
movements.  I  found  my  pretty  wayfarer  had  been  the 
subject  of  much  care  and  drill ;  and  so  intelligent  and 
communicative  was  he,  that  although  babe  like,  before 
I  put  him  down  at  his  schoolhouse,  I  had  learned  from 
him  much  of  the  people  of  the  neighbourhood  through 
which  I  was  passing  ;  and  in  the  few  moments*  ac- 
quaintance I  had  had  with  him,  he  so  won  my  affee- 


:J! 


•     '1 


IM 


.ir  1! 

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\  ■"•  I'  •■/ 


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100 


A  FRAOiMENT. 


tions,  I  (lid  not  let  him  go  from  me  until  I  had  covered 
his  face  with  repeated  kisses. 

Two  days  after  I  was  on  my  return,  but  wishing 
to  push  my  way  through  by  an  early  hour,  I  made  no 
stop  at  the  village  where  I  had  parted  with  the  cherub- 
faced  boy,  whose  acquaintance  I  had  before  made  upon 
the  road.  Passing  the  schoolhouse,  and  gaining  the 
farther  distance  of  a  half  mile  or  more,  I  found  that  the 
single  way  I  had  been  pursuing  became  divided  into 
two,  diverging  at  so  acute  an  angle,  that  with  my  pre- 
vious carelessness  in  omitting,  as  I  had  done,  to  notice 
any  object  by  which  I  might  distinguish  the  road  I  had 
come,  I  found  myself  at  a  loss  to  determine  which  was 
the  proper  direction  for  me  to  pursue.  With  such  an  un- 
certainty of  the  matter,  I  could  do  no  more  than  take  the 
road  which  seemed  most  likely  to  me  to  be  the  correct 
one — which  I  did,  and  proceeding  on  something  near 
another  half  mile,  I  found  an  inhabitant  by  the  way 
side,  of  whom  I  inquired  my  route,  and  in  answer  re- 
ceived the  information  that  I  had  taken  the  wrong 
branch  of  the  road,  and  was  advised  to  return  to  the 
angle  of  the  way  I  had  passed  as  the  most  ready  man- 
ner of  getting  again  upon  my  proper  path, 

With  the  information  I  had  thus  acquired,  I  put 
about  my  horse  in  order  to  retrace  the  steps  I  had 
taken  in  error  of  my  way ;  but  before  I  had  return- 


If 


A  FRAGMENT. 


101 


ed  to  the  branch  of  tho,  road,  which  was  my  proper  routo, 
I  discovered  a  conjTrotration  of  persons  issuing  from  a 
new  and  very  handsome  wooden  dwelling,  situated  on 
the  road  a  short  distance  before  me.  As  1  drove  up 
the  people  were  forming  in  the  street ;  and  I  discovered 
it  to  be  a  funeral  procession — and  refraining  from  any 
attempt  to  pass  it,  I  reined  up  my  horse  and  followed 
in  the  rear. 

The  withered  corse,  be  it  whose  it  will,  and  the  ob- 
sequies of  the  dead,  never  fail  to  awake  in  my  heart  an 
acknowledgment  of  awe  and  respectful  regard  ;  and 
every  person  of  an  enlightened  and  polished  mind,  or 
whose  understanding  has  been  reduced  to  any  kind  of 
system  of  thinking,  will  own  that — 

'*  It  is  a  dread  and  awful  thing  to  die  ;" 

and  it  is  this  sentiment  which  is  generally  found  to 
create  in  the  bosom  of  civilized  man  a  feeling  of  re- 
spect for  the  last  remains  of  his  fellow-being.  AVhen 
all  the  acts  of  the  creature  are  done — when  the  body 
has  ceased  its  functions — and  when  the  dust  is  about 
to  return  to  the  dust  as  it  was,  and  the  spirit  unto  God 
who  gave  it — though  the  person  may  have  been  our 
worst  enemy,  the  last  vestige  of  his  being,  and  those 
yites  which  civilization  accords  to  it,  command  our  re- 
spect and  attention  :   as  when  the  human  form  has 

12 


*! 


t 


1  ,  , 

'     1 

f 

I. 


i  i 


:\» 


I 


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17 

.1  ; 


102 


A  FRAGMENT. 


'I 


«', 


ceased  to  be  a  thing  to  be  loved,  there  is,  or  should  be, 
an  end  of  our  dislikes. 

I  was  called  by  some  pressing  business  I  had  to 
transact,  at  a  distance  of  some  twenty  miles  or  more 
ahead  of  me,  where  it  had  been  my  desire  to  arrive  be- 
fore the  day  closed,  but  from  having  mistaken  my  road, 
and  the  consequent  delay  to  which  I  had  been  subject- 
ed, I  became  satisfied  I  should  fail  to  accomplish  my 
object  in  that  matter  ;  and  so  I  resolved  to  witness  the 
concluding  part  of  the  ceremony  of  respect,  which  was 
then  being  bestowed  upon  the  last  remains  of  some  one 
of  my  fellow-creatures.  Accordingly,  when  I  came  to 
the  dividing  of  the  roads,  I  dismounted  from  my  sulky, 
and  disposing  of  my  horse  by  the  road  side,  I  joined 
myself,  on  foot,  with  the  procession  as  it  was  about  to 
enter  a  recently  opened  cemetery,  in  a  field  at  a  hundred 
and  fifty  rods,  or  so,  distant  from  the  village. 

It  was  then,  I  discovered  for  the  first,  that  the  body 
about  to  be  interred  was  that  of  a  child  or  infant. 

The  weather,  though  cold,  was  remarkably  pleasant 
for  the  season  of  the  year,  which  was  autumn.  The 
sun,  which  had  been  obscured  during  the  early  part 
of  the  day,  and  which  was  then  sinking  in  the  west, 
shone  out  with  a  pale  soft  lustre  ;  while  the  wind, 
which  had  been  blustering,  though  not  furiously,  for 
many  hours,  had  then  assumed  such  a  determined 


.1 

I' 
f 


i 


j> 


; 


A  FRAGMENT. 


body 


103 


quietness  that  a  tread  or  a  whisper  did  not  escape  the 
ear,  though  made  among  a  crowd.     The  very  things  of 
the  earth  seemed  to  have  prepared  a  propitious  moment 
for  a  happy  spirit  to  ascend  to  the  regions  of  bliss. 

As  the  procession  arrived  at  the  burying  place,  the 
coffin  containing  the  corpse  was  placed  upon  a  bier, 
near  the  grave  opened  to  receive  it,  and  uncovered  that 
the  body  might  be  viewed. 

Among  those  who  had  formed  the  procession,  there 
were  but  two  individuals  clothed  with  the  garments  of 
mourning.     The  one  was  a  man  of  middle  age,  and 
gentlemanlike   appearance.     The    other,  a  lady,  both 
young  and  handsome.     The  two  were  the  parents  of 
the  deceased  child;  and  it  was  their  only  one.     In 
that  land  they  were  recent  settlers,  and  almost,  as  yet, 
strangers.     They  stood  beside  each  other  near  the  box 
containing  all  that  remained  of  the  sole  offspring  of 
their  affections,  and  the  object  of  their  united  hopes 
and  their  cares.     The  father  exhibited  a  feeling  of  deep 
anguish,  but  no  tears.     The  eyes  of  the  mother  were 
running  over.     They  each  kissed  the  cold  lips  of  the 
remains  of  their  child.     The  one  did  it  in  silent  sorrow, 
the  other  melting  with  grief ;  but  there  was  no  mad- 
ness in  her  actions ;  she  was  calm  and  perfectly  self- 
possessed  ;  and  while  her  eyes  poured  forth  a  torrent, 
which  she  made  no  effort  to  suppress,  her  face  was  suf- 


! 

:  t 

I  ■ 

•  ■  I, 


I,  t 

m 


104 


A  FRAGMENT. 


I 


fused  with  a  refinement  of  loveliness.  It  was  a  pix;tiisre 
of  beauty  chastened  with  grief,  and  modified  with  a 
happy  resignation  to  the  will  of  Providence. 

As  the  immediate  view  and  contemplation  of  a  ves- 
tige of  the  human  kind,^  emaci9.ted  by  a  long  sickness, 
(as  I  had  presumed  was  the  case  with  the  one  then  be- 
fore me,)  and  resting  in  the  arms  of  death,  create  no 
pleasurable  feelings  in  my  bosom,  I  had  made  no 
effort^  to  near  the  coffin,  and  had  not  beheld  the  corpse 
it  contained,  until  1  was  forced  on  by  the  press  of  peo- 
ple I  was  among,  and  in  a  manner  obliged  to  look 
upon  it. 

And  then — oh  !  God — what  were  my  sensations, 
when  I  beheld  the  lifeless  form  of  the  little  fellow 
whose  acquaintaince  I  had  made  on  that  road  a  few 
days  before,  while  he  was  on  his  way  to  his  school. 
There  was  no  withered  corse  in  that  coffin.  It  ap- 
peared as  a  being  under  the  influence  of  sweet  and  na- 
tural repose,  rather  than  the  sleep  of  death,  h  seem- 
ed as  a  fallen  rosebud  cut  oft' by  an  unlucky  stroke. 

The  same  day  1  had  left  him  at  his  schoolhouse,  on 
his  return  he  had  been  taken  into  a  cart,  that  was  dri- 
ving toward  his  home,  with  some  others  of  his  mates, 
from  which  he  fell  out — a  wheel  passed  over  him, 
breaking  several  of  his  limbs,  and  a  blood  vessel^  from 
which  he  bled  to  death  in  a  few  minutes — and  his  pa- 
rents had  never  seen  him  afterward  living. 


i 


THE    COURSE    OF   EVIL. 


Ere  nature's  bloom  from  chaos  woke, 
And  the  first  ray — soft,  beaming,  bright. 

From  ether  skies,  benignant  broke, 

And  decked  the  earth  with  blushing  light. 

In  heaven,  the  realm  of  bliss  and  love. 

The  home  of  the  eternal  God, 
Sin  raised  its  head — then  from  above 

Was  driven  by  the  avenging  rod. 

In  Eden's  happy  bow'r  and  shade 
The  serpent  stole  with  wily  lies  ; 

Our  parent  won,  and  then  betrayed : 
For  this,  in  sin,  poor  man,  he  dies. 

When  Nero  first  the  sceptre  held. 

His  deeds  were  mark'd  by  complaisance ; 

But,  ah !  how  soon  Rome  was  compelled 
To  see  the  tyrant's  work  advance^ 

So,  Cromwell  sought  his  country's  praise. 
And  gained  her  love  by  courtly  grace  ; 

But,  when  to  power  himself  would  raise, 
His  breast  to  virtue  gave  no  place^ 

And  as  the  rose  and  thorn  both  grow, 
By  nature  twined,  on  the  same  tree  ; 

Virtue  and  vice  together  flow, 
Aud  in  their  source  ne'er  sep'rate  be. 


.  '■*  III 


I 


1 1 


4|i 


A  \i'  i.     ■<  SI 


I  1 1 


•  'i|! 


m 


i 


A   SONG    OF   LOVE. 

RESPECTFULLY  INSCRIBED  TO  MISS  CLARA  H '* 


Dear  Clara  !  dear  Clara ! — 'Tis  thy  blooming  cheek, 
Where  a  shade  rests  enchanting — rosy  and  meek, 
That  bids  me  in  language  my  passion  to  speak, 
For  thee,  dearest  Clara,  with  thy  blooming  cheek. 

Dear  Clara !  dear  Clara ! — Tis  thy  ruby  lip. 
Whose  kiss  is  far  sweeter  than  nectar  to  sip. 
That  gives  me  a  fondness — ^no  tempting  shall  nip— 
For  thee,  dearest  Clara,  with  thy  ruby  lip. 

Dear  Clara  !  dear  Clara  \ — ^'Tis  thy  melting  eye. 
More  bright  and  resplendent  than  heaven's  blue  sky. 
That  my  heart  fills  with  love,  and  makes  me  now  sigh, 
For  thee,  dearest  Clara,  with  thy  melting  eye. 

Dear  Clara !  dear  Clara ! — 'Tis  thy  heaving  breast, 
Where  pillow'd,  lie  charms  more  than  man  ever  guessed, 
Which  moves  me  to  barter  a  hope  to  be  blessed. 
For  thee,  dearest  Clara,  with  thy  heaving  breast. 

Dear  Clara !  dear  Clara ! — *Tis  thy  mellow  tone, 
A  voice  like  the  harp's,  when  the  hand's  o'er  it  thrown, 
My  soul  has  enwrapp'd,  and  compels  me  to  own. 
Thy  power,  dear  Clara,  with  thy  mellow  tone. 


'i 


iieek, 
k, 

k. 


sky, 
V  sigh, 

ElSt, 

uessed, 
t, 

thrown, 


AN   INSCRIPTION; 

Written  upon  the  blank  leaf  of  a  Bible  presented  to  me  while  im- 
prisoned in  the  Citadel  of  Quebec,  by  Lieut.  Colonel  Wigram» 
of  the  Coldstream  Guards. 


I. 

Let  reason  now  this  book  unfold, 

To  me  its  myst'ries  ope  ; 
That  I — the  words  of  truth  behold 

Whereon  to  build  a  hope  : 
My  every  doubt,  remove,  oh  Lord ! 
And  make  me  certain  of  thy  word. 

II. 
When  Israel's  wand'ring  tribes  were  thirst, 

And  all  Rephidim  dry  ; 
From  Horeb's  smitten  rock  tuere  burst, 

A  fount  for  their  supply  : 
Then  came  the  murm'ring  hosts  and  drank 
Of  limpid  waters  from  the  tank. 

III. 
So,  while  my  thoughts  by  sophists  led, 

O'er  fields  of  science  rove  ; 
My  way,  with  fickle  steps,  I  tread — 

A  famished  soul  I  move  ; 
But,  give  me,  Lord,  this  source  to  know, 
From  whence  Ufe-giving  waters  flow. 


'■\\ 


y: 


.  1,-, 


W' 


m 


\i..\t. 


i^k 


m 


i^'-^ii 


M 


J! 


I 


108 


AN  INSCRIPTION. 


IV. 


Here,  let  me  read  these  latt^s  aright — 
These  statutes  understand, 

And  be  my  heart  a  tablet  bright, 
Iniscribed  with  Heaven's  command  ; 

And,  Lord,  confirm  my  hope,  to  be 

A  SPIRIT  bless'd  immortally. 


->  ,. «.  •  ", 


INCIDENTS  OF  A  STAGE-COACH. 


It  is  undoubtedly  known  to  the  reader,  that  the  Yan- 
kees of  the  northern  states  of  America  guess  at  every- 
thing, while  at  the  south  everybody  reckons — just  as 
with  the  English  all  things  are  splendid  ;  and  that  on 
account  of  our  guessings  and  reckonings  the  foreigners 
who  visit  the  country  are  terribly  shocked  at  the  peo- 
ple's vulgarity,  and  deal  out  their  ridicule  in  no  stinted 
measure.  We  have,  however,  another  word  in  general 
use  among  us,  the  Anglo-Americans,  having  an  univer- 
sal application  and  ubiquity  of  meaning,  which  puts 
guessing  and  reckoning  entirely  in  the  back  ground ; 
and  it  is  believed  that  if  all  which  is  splendid  should  be 
transferred  from  England  to  the  United  States,  it  would 
be  lost  in  the  halo  of  this  one  word,  which  has,  as  yet, 
entirely  escaped  the  notice  of  the  whole  family  of 
foreign  fault-finders,  up  to  the  present  day.  It  is  in  the 
language  of  the  north  and  in  the  language  of  the  south. 
Travel  from  Georgia  to  Maine,  and  from  Maine  to 
Michigan,  and  you  shall  hear  it  alike  in  all  places  made 

to  stand  as  adjective  to  almost  every  noun,  common  o^ 

K 


n 


■■V   ■    j 


ti 


■  1% 

ill 

UP'-' 

■■'il 


no 


INCIDENTS  OF  A  STAGE-COACH, 


t 


4 


proper.  You  will  hear  it  lisped  from  the  sweetest  lips 
that  ever  carolled  "  Home,  sweet  home  " — as  well  as 
drawled  from  the  tobacco-stained  bivalves  of  the  clod- 
pole,  whose  whole  vocabulary  of  language  does  not 
consist  of  more  than  twenty-five  words.  Still  I  have 
not  in  any  instance  seen  it  subjected  to  the  strictures  of 
any  of  the  commentators,  who  have  so  severely  casti- 
gated the  guessings  of  the  Yankees,  and  the  reckonings 
of  the  Southerners.  Perhaps  it  is  so,  because  it  is  toa 
pretty  a  word  to  be  made  to  wither  by  the  caustic  breath 
of  cynical  animadversion.  I  refer  to  the  word  pretty 
— and  the  manner  in  which  this  word  is  used,  (or  mis- 
used,) I  will  endeavour  to  illustrate  in  the  relation  of 
an  incident. 

Some  five  or  six  years  now  past,  (before  the  rail-road 
was  made,)  I  was  travelling  along  the  banks  of  the 
Mohawk,  stowed  in  the  inside  of  a  stage-coach  with 
eight  other  passengers,  just  as  you  will  find  the  seeds 
in  a  pomegranate.  It  was  two  hours  in  advance  of 
the  sun  when  the  coach  sat  out  on  the  road  ;  and  having 
been  called  from  my  bed  before  "  tired  nature's  sweet 
restorer  "  had  fully  performed  its  office  to  me,  taking 
little  notice  of  whom  or  what  was  around  me,  I  hastened 
to  get  into  ray  seat,  and  there  slept  away  as  if  I  had 
been  still  hugging  my  pillow.  The  road  was  intolera- 
bly bad,,  and  our  progress  had  been  at  a  rate  of  scarcely 


INCIDENTS  OF  A  STAGE-COACH. 


Ill 


3St  lips 
veil  as 
e  clod- 
es  not 
I  have 
;ures  of 
Y  casti- 
konings 
it  is  toa 
;  breath 

PRETTY 

or  mis- 
ation  of 

ail-road 
of  the 
eh  with 
e  seeds 
ance  of 
i  havinor 
s  sweet 
,  taking 
lastened 
if  I  had 
intolera- 
scarcely 


*> 


more  than  two  miles  to  the  hour,  when  the  morning 
spread  its  broad  light  around  us  ;  and  although  this  did 
not  much  mend  our  speed,  it  put  us  all  in  a  condition 
for  conversation.  Up  to  this  time  the  stage-coach  had 
been  as  quiet  as  a  box  of  herring.  But,  as  old  Gofithe 
says,  "  it  is  a  strange  puddle  that  will  not  look  bright 
when  the  sun  shines  f  so  we,  the  occupants  of  our 
travelling  vehicle,  not  being  mortals  of  the  most  strange 
kind,  as  soon  as  the  sun  began  to  scatter  its  gold  leaf 
about,  were  aroused  from  our  sleep  and  drowsiness,  and 
brightened  into  something  like  evidences  of  life. 

The  first  word  that  struck  my  ears  was  from  o,  pretty 
little  lady  crowded  up  in  a  corner  of  the  coach, 
where  she  had  assumed  a  shape  much  like  that  of  a 
pod  of  honey  locust. 

"  Dear  me,"  said  she,  "  I've  a  pretty  hard  seat." 

"  A  pretty  crowded  one,"  said  a  gentleman  who  sat 
next  her. 

"  This  is  a  pretty  muddy  road,"  said  a  gentleman 
who  was  before  me. 

^^  Pretty  slow  travelling,"  said  another  gentleman, 
with  a  kind  of  graveyard  voice,  {and  of  whom  it  had 
been  said  he  was  a  deacon,)  as  he  withdrew  his  head 
from  a  survey  of  the  road  through  one  of  the  windows 
of  the  coach. 

"  Yes,  and  a  pretty  wearisome  time  for  the  horses," 


it 


■IV;' -M 


112 


INCIDENTS  OF  A  STAGE-COACH. 


i 


•  'Vt 


■I 


.'^i 


t  J 


li  • 


said  another  of  the  passengers,  who  was  evidently  a 
horse-dealer. 

"  And,  a  pretty  sweat  it  has  given  them,"  said  his 
companion. 

Pretty,  I  thought,  was  then  used  up ;  but  I  was  mis- 
taken. There  were  placed  on  the  forward  seat  two 
young  ladies  direct  from  the  city  of  New-York ;  and 
who,  for  the  first  time  in  their  lives,  were  then  travel- 
ling in  the  country.  We  were  at  the  moment  approach- 
ing the  foot  of  the  Big  Nose,  and  on  beholding  its  dark 
brow  frowning  over  our  path,  one  of  the  young  ladies 
exclaimed  to  her  companion — 

"  Look,  Bell !  isn't  that  a  pretty  high  mountain  ?" 

"  'Tis,  indeed,"  replied  the  other  j  "  and  what  a 
pretty  place  for  a  lover's  leap  ?" 

"  Really,"  said  I,  "  we  are  a  pretty  set  of  fellows." 

"  Why,  what  do  you  mean  by  that,  sir  ?"  demanded 
the  individual  who  had  given  pretty  to  the  mud. 

"  Oh,  nothing,"  replied  I ;  "  only  as  everything  else 
is  so,  I  think  we  too  ought  to  be  pretty ^ 

At  this  moment  our  coach  wheeled  up  to  the  door  of 
the  inn  at  which  we  were  to  breakfast,  and  farther 
remark  was  put  an  end  to  by  our  leaving  it  for  the 
comforts  of  the  snug  warm  parlour  of  the  public 
house.  It  was  then  proposed  by  the  deacon,  who  now 
began  to  assume  something  of  a  dictatorial  manner,  that 


tei 


1y  a 
his 

mis- 
two 
and 

avel- 

aach- 
dark 

adies 

1" 
lat   a 

rs." 
anded 


else 


oor  of 
farther 
or  the 
public 
LO  now 
er,  that 


INCIDENTS  OF  A  STAGE-COACH. 


113 


we  should  all  join  in  a  kind  of  family  worship  and  prayer 
before  breakfasting.  To  this  there  was  an  objection 
raised  by  one  of  the  passengers,  who  seemed  to  have 
nothing  in  his  mind's  eye,  either  of  this  world  or  tho 
next,  save  his  breakfast ;  and  by  the  two  who  had  noticed 
our  drudging  horses,  and  who  were  avowed  infidels, 
the  measure  was  openly  opposed.  But  there  was  no 
opportunity  given  for  discussion,  as  the  tinlding  of  a 
bell  announced  that  breakfast  was  ready,  and  the  land- 
lord of  the  house  appeared,  to  order  us  to  the  table  ;  and 
his  mandate  was  instantly  obeyed  by  all,  and  without 
objection  even  by  the  praying  gentleman,  the  deacon. 

Having  taken  our  breakfast,  we  were  again  stowed 
in  the  stage-coach,  and  on  the  road. 

It  is  pretended  by  some  that  as  the  Christian  religion 
is  admitted  to  be  essential  to  the  future  well-being  of 
our  souls,  and  as  its  exercises  are  a  part  and  parcel  of 
its  enjoyments  and  belief,  every  place  is  an  altar  for 
prayer,  and  every  occasion  proper  for  urging  its  pre- 
cepts ;  and  such  was  the  opinion  of  the  individual  who 
had  endeavoured  to  urge  us  to  prayer  on  this  occasion ; 
and  when  we  were  again  seated  in  the  coach,  he,  (the 
deacon,)  not  only  made  such  an  avowal,  but  took  it  upon 
himself  to  declare,  "  that  'prayer  was  the  only  essential 
exercise  of  piety."  This  brought  up  religion  as  a  mat- 
ter of  discussion.     The  little  lady  I  have  mentioned 

K2 


!.; 


it 


it'"" 


If  '•■ 


V 


^ 


if. 


/«i 


114 


INCIDENTS  OF  A  STAGE-COACH. 


f 


h 


was  on  the  side  of  religion ;  but  she  seemed  to  think 
that  prayer  was  neither  its  only  nor  material  exercise. 
Then,  the  infidels  were  out  against  the  whole  system. 
They  avowed  opinions  of  the  human  kind  in  accordance 
with  something  like  the  principles  of  materialism  as 
entertained  in  the  writings  of  the  late  Thomas  Jeffer- 
son ;  and  so  powerfully  argumentative  were  these  free- 
thinkers, that  on  the  first  onset  the  man  of  prayer  was 
driven  from  the  field,  leaving  them  to  descant  upon  the 
*'  chimera  of  religion,"  the  "fallacy  of  the  Bible,"  and 
the  "  tricks  of  the  clergy,"  without  opposition  from  him. 
The  Utile  lady  was  a  conscientious  religionist,  and 
though  by  no  means  a  bigot  in  principle,  she  was  a  firm 
believer  in  the  revelations  and  the  doctrines  of  the 
Bible  ;  and  such  were  her  feelings  of  regard  for  her  prin- 
ciples, that  she  could  not  content  herself  to  hear  religion 
and  the  things  she  had  been  taught  to  revere  and  re- 
gard as  holy,  reviled ;  or  see  the  foundations  of  all  her 
hopes  attacked,  pulled  down  and  wantonly  picked  to 
pieces  and  scattered  to  the  winds,  without  oflTering 
some  resistance,  which  she  ventured  to  make  by  way 
of  argument.     Upon  this  lady's  having  entered  the  lists 
as  a  disputant  with  such  mighty  opponents,  my  interest 
was  much  excited,  and  I  was  awakened  to  observe  the 
course  and  result  of  the  arguments,  which  on  the  part 
of  the  materialists  were  assumed  by  one  of  the  gentle- 


TNCIDEP^TS  OF  A  STAGE-COACH. 


ll(j 


,i  ! 


think 
ercise. 
ystem. 
•rdance 
ism  as 

Jeffer- 
e  free- 
zer was 
pon  the 
e,"  and 
jm  him. 
ist,  and 
,s  a  firm 

of  the 

ler  prin- 

religion 

and  re- 

f  all  her 

icked  to 

offering 

)  by  way 

the  lists 

'■  interest 

erve  the 

the  part 

e  gentle- 


men, the  other  having  withdrawn  from  the  dispute,  not 
being  willing  to  appear  so  ungallant  as  to  remain  an  as- 
so(i;ited  oppon<'nt  of  a  lady,  who  was  to  contend  single 
handed.  On  the  one  side,  the  reading  and  general  in- 
formation of  the  gentleman  had  made  him  a  perfect 
master  of  his  subject.  The  little  lady,  too,  evidently 
understood  her  subject.  But,  then,  she  contended  upon 
ground  so  diverse  and  distant  from  her  adversary,  that 
there  was  no  concussion  of  argument  or  real  encounter. 
While  the  gentleman  talked  philosophy,  and  reasoned 
upon  what  he  termed  the  premises  of  naturj,  the  Utile 
lady  founded  all  her  reasoning  upon  the  Bible,  and 
brought  her  proofs  and  arguments  from  that  book — the 
very  authenticity  of  which  was  denied,  in  toto,  by  the 
materialist. 

In  a  disputation  on  a  point  of  creed  with  a  religion- 
ist, there  was  no  doubt  the  little  lady  would  have  been 
more  than  ordinarily  clever  in  argument ;  but  as  it  was, 
it  seemed  her  opponent  had  taken  a  position  upon  an 
eminence,  from  which  he  opened  his  batteries,  and 
threw  his  missiles  in  every  direction  upon  point  blank 
marks  ;  while  she  could  reach  him  with  no  one  single 
reply,  nor  had  she  the  ability  to  maintain  herself  in  a 
change  of  position.  In  this  condition  the  little  lady 
soon  became  sensible  of  her  weakness,  and  saw  the 
difficulties  by  which  she  was  surrounded  ;  but,  having 


iu\ 


m 


m 


116 


INCIDENTS  OF  A  STAGE-COACH. 


once  entered  upon  the  field  of  argument,  her  pride  for- 
bade her  to  give  it  up,  without  an  effort  at  contest,  to  the 
possession  of  her  antagonist. 

Then,  as  I  saw  the  little  lady  in  a  dilemma,  like  a 
good  and  true  knight,  I  felt  a  desire  to  go  to  her  as- 
sistance, and  begged  her  permission  to  suggest  a  few 
things,  which  I  thought  might  prove  in  aid  of  her  argu- 
ment. To  this  she  readily  consented,  saying  "she 
should  feel  herself  greatly  relieved  by  surrendering  the 
argument  into  my  hands,  as  she  thought  I  would  be 
much  better  able  to  advocate  the  side  of  the  question 
she  had  essayed  to  maintain." 

While  the  discussion,  (in  the  first  instance,)  of  the 
subject  of  religion  had  been  going  on,  I  had  remained 
a  silent  listener  to  what  was  said,  and  I  had  afforded  no 
ground  for  a  conclusion  how  I  stood  in  opinion.  But, 
upon  my  offering  to  assume  the  disputation  in  behalf  of 
religion,  the  advocate  of  materialism  inferred  from  it 
that  I  was  a  professor  of  religious  principles ;  and  as 
he  assured  me  it  would  give  him  great  pleasure  to  hear 
and  answer  my  arguments,  (if  I  had  any  such  to  offer 
in  opposition  to  his  opinions,)  he  remarked,  "  he  was 
glad  to  find  he  had  got  an  adversary  to  contend  with 
who  could  not  shield  himself  from  any  roughness  of 
handling  by  the  courtesy  due  to  sex." 

The  principles  of  materialism  advocated  by  my  ad- 


s^ 


I 


de  for- 
to  the 

like  a 
ber  as- 
;  a  few 
argu- 
"she 
ng  the 
uld  be 
lestion 

of  the 
nained 
dedno 
But, 
half  of 
from  it 
ind  as 
o  hear 

0  offer 
e  was 

1  with 
less  of 

ly  ad- 


»♦ 


r 


INCIDENTS  OF  A  STAGE-COACH. 


117 


versary  denying  the  idea  of  any  such  thing  as  a  future 
state  of  existence  to  man,  his  principal  effort  had  been 
to  show  the  inutility  of  religion,  and  its  evil  tendency, 
as  it  regarded  the  condition  of  this  life,  and  the  affairs 
of  human  society  ;  and  it  was  on  this  ground  alone,  that 
an  issue  could  be  made  up  of  the  question  between  us. 

While  I  was  ready  to  assert  that  so  far  as  religion 
concerned  the  man,  individually  considered,  or  his  hope 
of  a  spiritual  existence,  it  was  a  matter  entirely  be- 
tween the  creature  and  his  God ;  I  contended  that  as  it 
related  to  human  society  we  were  bound  to  consider  it 
as  we  did  every  other  institution  embraced  by  man.  That 
while  we  counted  upon  one  hand  the  evils  that  result 
from  religion,  as  it  is  alleged,  we  should  estimate  upon 
the  other  the  benefits  it  confers  upon  our  species,  and 
if,  in  a  moral  and  social  point  of  view,  those  benefits  are 
found  to  be  greater  than  the  evils  which  are  supposed 
to  flow  from  it,  it  is  evidently  an  institution  proper  for 
man,  and  ought  to  be  received  and  cherished. 

In  answer,  my  opponent  said,  "  he  thought  there 
could  be  no  difficulty  in  satisfactorily  establishing  it  ns 
a  fact,  that  the  evils  of  religion,  regarding  it  as  an  in- 
stitution of  this  life,  have  a  great  preponderance  over 
any  advantages  to  human  society,  which  could  possibly 
be  accorded  to  it ;"  and  cited  from  pages  of  history 
many  and  various  accounts  of  oppressions,  broils,  civil 


I; -I 


1 .. 


H'  ■   ^ 


I  i 


:ir 


1 ' 


f^'l 


i.    t 


fl 


:|| 

■mm  . 

118 


INCIDENTS  OF  A  STAGE-COACH. 


commotions,  and  wars,  which  are  said  to  have  originated 
from  religion,  or  on  religious  grounds. 

" But,"  said  I,  "do  we  not,  sir,  find  all  these  evils 
you  describe  to  have  existed  in  every  age  and  among 
every  denomination  of  people,  among  those  who  have 
never  known,  and  those  who  have  rejected  our  system 
of  religion,  as  well  as  among  those  who  have  professed 
to  adopt  its  doctrines  ?  If,  then,  such  be  the  fact,  and 
I  believe  the  historical  authorities  you  have  quoted  will 
assure  me  it  is,  may  we  not  more  reasonably  conclude 
that  the  evils  complained  of  result  from  the  viciousness 
of  our  own  natural  propensities,  and  the  imperfections 
of  our  hearts,  than  from  the  principles  and  precepts  of 
religion,  by  which  they  are  neither  authorized  nor  ap- 
proved of.  Certainly  no  one  could  have  authority  for 
acts  of  violence  from  Him  whose  whole  teaching  was 
that  of  mildness  and  forbearance,  and  whose  command 
was,  "whosoever  smiteth  thee  on  thy  right  cheek, 
turn  to  him  the  other  also." 

I  continued,  "  that  there  have  been  perpetrated  the 
most  unholy  deeds,  with  the  colour  of  serving  the  cause 
of  religion,  and  that  very  bad  men  have  and  still  do 
claim  a  sanctity  from  its  principles,  and  enact  the 
deepest  wrongs  under  the  pretence  of  doing  God  service, 
is,  as  I  conceive,  but  an  evidence  of  the  iniquity  of  man, 
and  in  no  manner  militates  against  religion.     For  if  re- 


s 


filiated 

3  evils 

among 

o  have 

system 

ofessed 

ct,  and 

ed  vvrill 

•nclude 

ousness 

fections 

cepts  of 

nor  ap- 

)rity  for 

ng  was 

immand 

cheek, 

ated  the 
le  cause 
still  do 
lact  the 
service, 
of  man, 
'or  if  re- 


4 


^1 


INCIDENTS  OF  A  STAGE-COACH. 


119 


ligion  be  put  aside,  these  matters  complained  of,  might, 
and  no  doubt  would,  all  be  enacted  and  take  place  under 
some  other  colour  or  pretence.  That  men  are  bad 
without  religion,  cannot  be  denied,  and  that  there  are 
many  bad  professors  of  religion,  is  equally  true. 
Nevertheless,  if  religion  carried  neither  virtue  nor 
utility  Witt  it,  why  should  it  be  assumed,  I  would  ask, 
by  those  who  have  not  regenerated  hearts  to  entitle 
them  to  its  badges  1  None  counterfeit  that  which  is 
intrinsically  bad,  or  imitate  that  which  is  only  evil  in 
its  tendency  ;  and  then  we  find  that  all  wrong  and  mis- 
deeds are  contrary  to  the  spirit  and  letter  of  the  doc- 
trines of  the  Christian  religion.  That  the  mind  of  man 
naturally  turns  to  evil,  must  be  evident  to  all  observers 
of  men  and  their  affairs  ;  hence,  a  very  important  quality 
of  religion,  in  its  bearings  on  human  society,  is  that  it 
places  a  restraint  upon  the  acts  of  the  individual  by 
whom  it  is  embraced,  and  clothes  him  with  a  character 
which  it  becomes  his  pride  as  well  as  his  object  to  sus- 
tain by  a  course  of  rectitude  in  life  ;  and  there  are  but 
few  persons,  comparatively  speaking,  who  will  not 
make  an  effort  to  be  in  reality  something  like  what  they 
profess  to  be.  That  the  world  contains  many  good  men 
who  are  not  professedly  religious,  there  can  be  no 
doubt ;  and  it  may  be  said,  truly,  that  a  man  may  possess^ 
virtue  and  charity  without  religion,  but  to  such  there  ia 


n 


If 


f.'* 


I 


1:1. ' 


It 


120 


INCIDENTS  OF  A  STAGE-COAGH. 


no  compulsion,  while  virtue,  charity,  and  benevolence 
are  the  commands  of  religion." 

At  the  moment  I  was  thus  speaking,  we  had  arrived 
at  the  top  of  a  declivity  over  which  the  road  passed  ; 
and  as  we  began  to  descend,  instead  of  the  horses  being 
reined  in  by  the  coachman,  as  was  to  have  been  ex- 
pected, he  commenced  lashing  them,  and  we  soon  found 
ourselves  moving  down  the  hill  at  a  velocity  which  it 
seemed  wovdd  have  left  the  best  locomotive  in  the  rear. 
Jehu's  driving,  in  comparison  to  ours,  would  have  been 
a  tardy  gait.     Among  the  passengers,  it  was  all  con- 
sternation, and   none   could  divine   the    cause  of  the 
strange   proceedings    on   the   part   of  the    coachman. 
That  our  lives  were  being  jeopardized  was  apparent — 
but  to  remonstrate  was  out  of  the  question.     From  one 
side  of  the  road  rose  a  steep  acclivity,  and  on  the  other 
an  almost  perpendicular  bank  descended,  at  the  foot  of 
Avhich  rolled  the  deep  waters  of  the  Mohawk,  whose 
velocity  we  were  then  fast  outstripping.     Still,  crack, 
crack,  went  the  coachman's  whip,  and  on  we  went,  ex- 
pecting every  moment  to  be   thrown  over  the   bank, 
horses,  coach   and  all,  into  the  river  ;  and  as  we  got 
to  the  bottom  of  the  descent  in  the  road,  over  the  rivers 
brink  we  were  thrown,  and  would  have  been  plunged 
into  the  water,  had  it  not  been  for  the  interference  of  a 
tree,  standing  out  from  the  side  of  the  bank,  between 


i 


n 


jvolence 

I  arrived 
passed  ; 
es  being 
)een  ex- 
on  found 
which  it 
the  rear, 
ave  been 
all  con- 
e  of  the 
}achman. 
parent — 
'rem  one 
the  other 
le  foot  of 
k,  whose 
11,  crack, 
went,  ex-  ^ 
le  bank, 
s  we  got 
le  rivers 

plunged 
ence  of  a 

between 


INCIDENTS  OF  A  STAGE-COACH. 


121 


the  level  of  the  road  and  the  water's  edge,  against  which 
the  coach  fell  and  lodged. 

The  little  lady,  being  placed  in  the  coach  on  the 
side  which  had  become  the  lower  one,  found  herself 
more  crowded  than  ever,  as  myself  and  another  were 
fairly  piled  upon  her.  One  of  the  New- York  ladies 
fainted,  and  the  other  cried  murder !  while  the  two 
gentlemen  who  had  advocated  infidelity,  burst  open  the 
door  of  the  coach  on  one  side,  and  sprung  out  and  up 
the  bank  to  the  horses  ;  at  the  same  moment,  the  dea- 
con made  a  leap  from  the  door  on  the  other  side,  which 
ended  with  a  plunge  in  the  river.  The  little  lady,  the 
moment  she  was  let  up  a  trifle,  and  on  beholding  the 
unlucky  deacon  in  the  water,  forgot  her  own  jeopardy, 
and  began  to  sing  out  for  us  to  save  him  !  The  other 
two  gentlemen  who  made  up  the  company  of  passen- 
gers having  got  out  and  clambered  up  the  bank,  I  put 
my  head  outside  of  the  door,  to  observe  the  condition 
of  the  coach.  The  gentlemen  who  had  first  got  out 
were  engaged  in  releasing  the  horses,  which  the  coach- 
man had  succeeded  in  keeping  above  the  bank,  from 
the  tackling  that  fastened  them  to  the  coach.  Havincr 
succeeded  in  this,  one  of  them  threw  me  the  end 
of  a  leading  line,  which  I  fastened  around  the  waist 
of  the  little  lady,  and  by  this  means,  and  the  assistance 

rendered  by  the  gentlemen  in  the  road,  she  was  ena- 

L 


% 


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1 


t. 


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*- 


*!,!. 


¥'l 


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it 


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i  ijl! 


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•  '1 1 
Ifi'      ;  '  i 


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■1!' 


122 


INCIDENTS  OP  A  STAGE-COACH. 


bled  to  make  the  ascent  from  the  coach  in  safety ;  and 
then,  by  the  same  process  the  two  other  ladies  were 
sent  up.  Their  safety  being  accomplished,  I  left  the 
coach  and  clambered  to  the  road,  myself.  During  these 
proceedings,  the  deacon  remained  in  the  water,  but  he 
was  not  drowned.  Just  at  the  edge  of  the  river,  there 
was  growing  on  the  bank  a  clump  of  little  bushes, 
which,  by  good  luck,  came  within  the  deacon's  grasp  as 
he  fell  into  the  water ;  and  by  holding  on  to  them  he 
was  en??bled  to  keep  himself  from  floating  down  the 
current,  as  well  as  from  sinking — but  it  afforded  him  no 
means  of  getting  out. 

Believing  that  while  the  deacon  had  strength  to  cling 
to  his  bush,  he  was  in  no  danger  of  being  drowned, 
it  was  proposed  by  the  gentlemen  that  we  should  let 
him  enjoy  his  bath,  until  we  had  got  the  coach  up  from 
its  perilous  condition,  and  placed  it  safe  in  the  road. 
To  this  the  ladies  remonstrated,  and  demanded  that  the 
deacon  should  be  assisted  to  get  out  immediately ;  and 
as  I  could  not  consent  that  our  prejudices  and  dislikes 
should  allow  us  to  suffer  the  individual  to  remain  one 
moment  in  his  jeopardy,  after  we  had  the  ability  to 
afford  him  a  rescue,  I  joined  the  ladies  in  their  de- 
mand to  have  him  given  iiximediate  help.  This  was 
consented  to,  finally,  by  the  others,  and  the  leading  lines 
were  put  once  more  in  requisition ;  and  being  length- 


i« 


I 


y;  and 
is  were 
Left  the 
g  these 
but  he 
ir,  there 
bushes, 
^asp  as 
them  he 
>wn  the 
I  him  no 

to  cling 

rowned, 

Lould  let 

up  from 

he  roadc 

that  the 

jly;  and 

dislikes 

nain  one 

ability  to 

their  de- 

rhis  was 

ing  lines 

g  length' 


**^ 


INCIDENTS  OF  A  STAGE-COACH, 


123 


ened  out,  the  end  was  thrown  down  to  the  deacon,  and 
by  his  fastening  it  around  his  waist,  we  succeeded  in 
hauling  him  safe  to  dry  land. 

The  cause  of  our  mishap,  was  this.  At  the 
moment  we  commenced  the  descent,  the  hold-back 
straps  broke,  and  as  the  only  alternative  to  our  being 
precipitated  into  the  river,  and  to  prevent  the  coach 
from  running  upon  the  wheel-horses,  the  coachman  had 
put  on  the  lash;  and  as  we  arrived  at  the  foot  of 
the  descent  in  the  road,  some  other  part  of  the  tackling 
gave  way,  so  that  the  coachman  could  no  longer  direct 
the  course  of  the  vehicle — and  we  were  thrown  off  the 
bank. 

Having  released  ourselves  from  peril,  by  the  help  of 
a  number  of  countrymen,  residing  near  the  place  of  our 
mishap,  our  stage-coach  was  got  up  into  the  road  with- 
out having  received  any  material  damage  ;  the  broken 
harness  supplied  with  new ;  the  horses  tackled  in,  and 
we  all,  (except  the  deacon,)  stowed  in  our  seats  again, 
and  proceeding  on  our  way. 

The  deacon,  on  account  of  his  drenched  and  drip- 
ping clothes,  was  excluded  from  his  inside  seat,  and 
compelled  to  take  post  with  the  coachman  on  the  out- 
side. As  he  mounted  the  box,  "  Oh  !  dear,"  said  he, 
"  IVe  been  pretty  badly  hurt," 


)   %.: 


.1     . 


.    ^ 


■jr 

Mi 


\  ■:■.-• 


124 


INCIDENTS  OF  A  STAGE-COACH. 


I'l      !] 


"  Oh !  the  gentleman  has  got  pretty  wet,"  said  the 
little  lady. 

"  Look,"  said  one  of  the  New- York  ladies,  "  my  bon- 
net is  pretty  nearly  spoiled ;"  "  and  I,"  replied  the 
other,  "  was  pretty  nearly  frightened  to  death." 

"By  Jove,"  said  one  of  the  advocates  of  infideli- 
ty, "  our  horses  came  pretty  near  being  thrown  over 
the  bank."  "Yes,"  said  the  other,  "and  the  nigh 
wheel  horse  came  pretty  near  having  his  neck  broken." 

"  Well,  I  declare  we  Ve  had  a  pretty  fearful  adven- 
ture," remarked  another  gentleman ;  "  and  a  pretty 
affair  it  would  have  been,"  replied  his  neighbour,  who 
sat  next  to  him,  "  if  we  had  all  been  thrown  into  the 
river  !" 

While  these  remarks  were  being  made,  our  wheels 

rolled  on,  and  in  a  short  time  after  we  arrived  at , 

from  whence  I  did  not  intend  to  proceed  with  the  stage- 
coach, as  the  place  to  which  my  business  called  me, 
lay  to  the  right  and  to  some  distance  from  the  main 
road. 

On  learning  I  was  to  leave  the  company,  the  little 
lady  came  to  me  in  one  of  the  parlours  of  the  hotel  at 
which  we  stopped,  where  I  had  taken  a  seat,  and 
said,  "  she  should  be  pleased  if  I  would  favour  her  with 
my  name" — and  I  gave  her  my  card.     Having  received 


1^ 


t 


INCIDENTS  OF  A  STAGE-COACH. 


125 


id  the 

y  bon- 
ed the 

afideli- 
tt  over 
e  nigh 
foken." 
adven- 
preMy 
ir,  who 
nto  the 

wheels 

t , 

5  Stage- 
led  me, 
e  main 


it  and  examined  the  address  it  contained,  she  remark- 
ed, "  that  it  did  not  disclose  my  profession" — and  said, 
"  if  I  did  not  deem  the  request  impertinent,  she  begged  I 
would  favour  her  with  it." 

"  I  am  a  lawyer,"  replied  I. 

"  A  lawyer !"  repeated  the  lady.  "  Oh !  but  I  wish 
you  were  a  clergyman,  you  could  do  so  much  good  in 
the  world." 


II 


f4Jii  tbm 


'I  \'i 


fy 


•}   <         <n 

'■■■  -i] 


le  little 
hotel  at 
eat,  and 
ler  with 
received 


L2 


■|in 


^m 


(  ' 

1 1  I 


I 


i    1 


i 


! 


iNi 


.4* 

H    I 

I 


STANZAS; 

Written  for  the  Album  of  Miss  H.  R- 


I. 
'Mid  beams  the  early  sud  then  shed, 

And  bathed  with  morning  dew, 
The  blooming  tulip  waved  its  head, 

O'er  where  viola  grew  : 
Now,  evening  gales,  its  petals  broke, 

And  stripped  the  tulip  bare  ; 
But  viola  ne'er  felt  the  stroke, 

And  still  was  blooming  there  ! 

11- 
So,  blushing  in  rouge's  richest  tints, 

And  with  magnesia  fair, 
Beauty — in  Schella's  choicest  nrints, 

May  sport  her  purchased  hair ; 
While  Modesty,  shrinks  from  the  blaze 

Of  the  proud  parlour  queen — 
Who  begs  the  alms  of  public  gaze, 

And  pays  for  being  seen." 


u 


EPITAPH. 


127 


W 


III. 

But  form,  and  face,  are  gauds  of  time — • 

On  nature's  blushing  page — 
While  Learning  bears  the  storm — and  clime, 

And  Science  bides  with  age. 
Get  wisdom  then — thy  brow  Hwill  yield 

A  shade  both  pure  and  bright ; 
And  knowledge  too — that  is  a  shield 

Of  intellectual  light. 


'  f 


i 


:.t' 


EPITAPH. 

To  be  inscribed  on  the  tomb  of  a  child. 


Though  brief  life's  pleasures  all  are  found, 
A  transit  quick — few  moments  given  ; 

From  Christ  is  heard  the  joyful  sound-^ 

His  voice  proclaims — "  of  such  is  heavenP 


WM 


THE  SOLDIER  TO  HIS  BLANKET. 


|i> 


r 
1 


Fp  part  with  all  that  I  possess, 
Or  in  my  kit — that's  dear  to  me — 

And  grieve  for  which,  I'm  sure,  much  less, 
Than  when  I'm  forced  to  part  with  thee- 

My  Blanket. 

There  ne'er  was  quilt,  nor  counterpane, 
In  which  such  comfort  e'er  could  be  ; 

For  they  are  always  thin — and  vain, 
And  not  so  thick  and  warm  as  thee — 

My  Blanket, 

When  on  my  guard  bed,  I  have  lain, 
(Though  mind  from  sorrow  never  free,) 

At  fortune  I  dared  not  complain, 

While  comfort  I  received  from  thee — 

.  My  Blanket. 

When  in  a  cold  and  dreary  night, 
I've  watched  the  foe,  by  forest  tree  ; 

To  feel  thy  warmth,  I've  wished  I  might, 
And  closely  wrap  myself  in  thee — 

My  Blanket. 


%  I 


M 


THE  SOLDIER  TO  HIS  BLANKET. 

And  when  the  hour  of  midnight  came, 
And  I,  from  picket  post,  could  flee  ; 

Thy  comfort  ever  was  the  same 

When  I  was  closely  wrapped  in  thee — 

My  Blanket. 

And  when  afflicted  with  disease, 
Then,  dearer  still  art  thou  to  me  ; 

From  pain  severe,  I  oft  find  ease. 

When  I  am  snugly  wrapped  in  thee — 

My  Blanket. 


129 


A    SOLDIER'S   KIT. 

Since  writing  the  above,  I  have  looked  into  an  English  Dic- 
tionary for  the  word  Kit — where  I  find  it  with  the  following  defi- 
nitions. 1.  A  small  tub  with  a  cover.  2.  A  milk  pail.  3.  A 
pocket  violin.  4.  A  large  bottle.  But  neither  of  these  definitions 
convey  anything  like  what  I  would  have  understood  by  the  word. 
The  blanket,  coat,  and  other  articles  of  his  wardrobe — with  the 
things  for  his  toilet,  comprise  what  the  soldier  calls  his  kit. 


i| 


if 'I 


'   ( 


I 


1 1 


X^^\ 


130 


IMPROMPTU. — BPITAPH. 


IMPROMPTU. 


When  it  is  hot,  the  farmer  drinks 
Some  spirits  to  cool  his  blood  ; 
And  when  'tis  cold,  yet  still  he  thinks, 


A  little  will  do  him  good. 


But  soldiers  drink  in  cold  or  heat, 
And  when  'tis  dry,  to  wet  it ; 

The  bowl  they'll  ever  ready  meet. 
And  drink  when  they  can  get  it. 


\ 


d^ 


ll  ^ 


1  ' 

I 


I-  fl 


I 


Li 


EPITAPH; 

To  be  inscribed  on  the  tomb  of  a  soldier. 


He,  at  the  must'ring  bugle's  sound 
Was  ever  ready  on  the  ground, 

And  muster  there  he  passed  ; 
But,  tyrant  death,  with  iron  rod. 
Hath  called  him  now,  before  his  God, 

To  muster  for  the  last. 


1: 


•)l 


A   CELEBRATION, 

Of  the  Anniversary  of  the  Declaration  of  American  Independence, 
in  the  Citadel  of  Quebec,  L.  C. 


On  the  first  of  July,  1838,  there  were  a  number  of 
American  citizens,  of  which  the  writer  of  this  was  one, 
confined  in  the  Citadel  of  Quebec,  L.  C,  where  they 
were  held  by  the  British  government,  as  prisoners  of 
state,  on  a  charge  of  having  levied  war  against  Her 
Majesty  in  behalf  of  the  independence  of  the  Canadas  ; 
and  believing  they  were  then  most  likely  to  be  detained 
there  over  the  4th,  they  resolved  to  celebrate  the  day 
with  the  usual  ceremonies  of  its  recognition.  In  pur- 
suance of  this  resolve,  preparations  for  a  good  dinner,  with 
its  concomitant — wine,  were  duly  and  efficiently  made. 

The  morning  of  the  4th  came,  and  the  American 
Prisoners  caused  their  room,  which  was  one  of  the 
casemates  of  the  Citadel,  to  be  put  in  the  most  neat  and 
perfect  order  possible :  (this  was  done  by  a  superin- 
tending sergeant  of  the  Coldstream  Guards,  and  an 
orderly  man  appointed  by  the  commanding  officer:)  and 
having  attired  themselves  in  the  best  of  their  wardrobes, 
and  the  arrangements  for  dinner  being  completed,  at  one 
o'clock,  P.  M.  they  came  to  order  around  their  table, 
when  the  following  ceremonies  were  gone  through  with 
in  a  dignified  and  respectful  manner  : 

I.  Prayer — read  by  Gen.  S . 

II.  Hymn — sung  by  Messrs.  B.  F.  P -,  T.  R. 


<'h 


■l\ 


M 


m 


'f/ii 


f>"i 


'?^il 


■'if 'I 


% 


132 


C- 
P- 


A  CELEBRATION  OF  THB 


S.    T 

and  N.  S- 


c.  p. 


H.  L.  H- 


A.  W. 


III.  Declaration  of  American  Independence — 
read  by  Col.  D . 

IV.  Oration — by . 


V.  Ode — written  for  the  occasion  by  Gen.  S— «— , 
and  sung  by  Mr.  B.  F.  P . 

(ODE.) 

I. 
Here,  Freedom,  thy  spirit  awake  in  each  breast, 

Now  the  bright  star  of  hope  still  beams  from  on  high ; 
And  though  the  rude  chains  by  which  we  are  oppressed, 

May  clank  round  our  forms — yet  we  heave  not  a  sigh: 
And  while  these  deep  walls  do  our  footsteps  restrain. 

And  heavy  barred  casements  deny  "  we  are  free" — 
Our  cups  we  will  fill — and  the  goblet  we'll  drain. 

And  drink  to  the  goddess  of  sweet  Liberty  ! 

II. 
We  scorn  the  harsh  touch  of  the  cold  iron  clasp, 

While  with  joy's  lightest  heart  our  cell  is  made  glad, 
And  ne'er  shall  our  spirits  be  reached  by  the  grasp 

Of  those,  for  our  blood,  who  are  thirsty  and  mad. 
'Tis  true  we  are  bound — but  why  should  we  fear  1 

Our  captors  led  captive  we're  sure  yet  to  see  ! 
So,  our  cups  we  will  fill — as  "  we^re  all  freemen  here^^ — 

And  drink  to  the  goddess  of  sweet  Liberty  ! 


V 


V.  w. 


NCE — 


ihigh; 
ressed, 
a  sigh: 
train, 


ree 


» 


le  glad, 

sp 

lad. 

ir? 
f 


I 


nFX'LARATION  OF  INDEPENDENCE. 


III. 


133 


See  yon  scarlet  clad  guard,  who  stands  at  our  door, 

The  slave  of  the  despot  and  scourge  of  the  free  ; 
His  office  proclaims  that  his  own  freedom's  o'er — » 

Poor  wretch — he  enjoys  it,  now,  far  less  than  we. 
We  are  fixed  to  our  cell — so  is  he  to  his  post. 

For  jailer,  than  prisoner,  is  never  more  free  ; 
He's  thirsty  and  sad — while  we  fill  for  our  toast, 

And  drink  to  the  goddess  of  sweet  Liberty  ! 

IV. 
List,  list,  ye  !  there's  music  that's  sounding  afar. 

The  voice  of  the  free — from  our  own  native  land  ; 
Oh,  Britons  !  those  notes  shall  your  proud  spirits  mar^ 

liike  words  on  the  wall  by  invisible  hand. 
Your  tyrant  is  pretty^  but  why  should  we  care  ? 

Once  Egypt  had  one  ^ust  as  pretty  as  she  ; 
80,  while  we  fill  bumpers,  we  toast  no  such  fair ^ 

But  drink  to  the  goddess  of  sweet  Liberty  ! 

V. 

We  remember  the  era  to  Britain  most  dread — 

From  her  hand  when  was  'rested,  the  home  of  the  brave. 
And,  now,  though  her  minions  a  while  here  may  tread, 

Here,  despots  of  Europe  shall  cease  to  enslave. 
Then,  hail  to  the  day  !  may  its  glory  ne'er  fade, 

'Till  man  independent  of  kingcraft  shall  be, 
And  the  world's  fertile  plains  for  ever  be  made, 

The  abode  of  the  goddess  of  sweet  Liberty  I 


"  [   v 


mm 


134 


A  CELEBRATION  OF  THE 


t: 


,;yi 


'I'  if. 


u 

'% 


:^ii« 


':* 


VI.  Prayer — read  by  Gen.  S ,  concluding  tlie 

ceremonies. 

After  the  preceding  ceremonies  were  ended,  the 
American  Prisoners  sat  down  to  a  good  and  substan- 
tial dinner,  which  was  afforded  to  them  exclusively  at 
the  expense  of  Her  Majesty's  government. 

Although  it  could  not  be  said  that  their  table  was  os- 
tentatiously furnished — or  that  earth  and  ocean  had  been 
plundered  to  furnish  viands  to  them  for  the  occasion, 
yet  it  was  certain  that  their  board  was  spread  with  a 
clean  white  table  cloth,  and  furnished  with  all  the  usual 
paraphernalia  of  the  housewife,  belonging  to  the  table  ; 
and  then  their  dinner  consisted  of  one  course  of  soups, 
one  course  of  roast  beef  and  boiled  pork,  and  vegetables 
with  the  ordinar;^^  et  ceteras — one  course  of  puddings, 
of  three  kinds — 'vith  a  concluding  course,  consisting  of 
cheese,  cracker  s,  &c.  The  quantity  of  each  of  these 
dishes  was  abundant — and  then,  a  row  of  black  bottles 
placed  on  one  side  of  the  room,  showed  that  they  were 
supplied  with  the  means  for  conviviality. 
After  the  cloth  was  removed — tumblers  and  decanters 

spread  the  board  ;  and  Gen.  S ,  having  been  called 

to  preside,  read  the  following  toasts,  which  were  drank 
with  as  much  glee  as  if  the  convivialists  had  been  the 
most  free  on  earth. 


f 


^^n 


k 


V' 


ing  the 

ed,  the 
ubstan- 
ively  at 

was  OS- 
ad  been 
:^casion, 
with  a 
le  usual 
e  table  ; 
f  soups, 
Tetables 
iddings, 
isting  of 
)f  these 
c  bottles 
ey  were 

Dcanters 
n  called 
re  drank 
>een  the 


'P 
§ 


i 


DECLARATION  OF  INDEPENDENCE. 


135 


REGULAR  TOASTS. 

1.  The  day  we  celebrate.  The  most  glorious  era  on 
the  page  of  history.  May  it  never  be  forgotten  so  long 
as  one  spark  of  patriotism  glows  in  our  hearts — or  one 
drop  of  the  blood  of  our  forefathers  runs  warm  in  our 
veins.    3  times  3. 

2.  The  Declaration  of  American  Independence.  The 
prologue  of  a  great  drama,  the  denouement  of  which  was 
the  acknowledgment  of  the  British  sovereign.  May 
there  be  another  act  added  to  the  drama,  and  may  its 
epilogue  be  the  proclamation  of  Liberty  to  all  America. 

3.  The  4th  of  July,  1776.  The  dawn  of  political 
liberty  in  America.  From  this  day  let  the  despots  of 
this  continent  date  the  beginning  of  their  destruction. 

4.  The  signers  of  the  Declaration  of  American  Inde- 
pendence. Men  who  dared  to  do  or  die.  May  future 
events  show  that  their  race  is  not  extinct. 

5.  Washington  and  Marion.  Men  who  fought  for  a 
nation's  liberty.  They,  too,  were  guilty  of  the  same 
glorious  offence  for  which  we  suffer.     3  times  3. 

6.  Bonnivard  and  Lafayette.  Our  illustrious  prede- 
cessors to  the  honours  of  a  prison.  May  we  imitate 
them  in  our  future  life,  by  serving  the  cause  of  virtue, 
liberty,  and  humanity.     3  times  3. 

7.  The  heroes  of  the  American  Revolution,  Their 
names  are  gems  on  the  pages  of  our  country's  history. 


I',  i 


I   ; 


i-|: 


!   t     I 


136 


A  CELEBRATION  OF  THE 


it,  "if 


*1 


May  their  memories  long  be  retained  and  cherished 
by  those  for  whom  they  secured  heaven's  best  gift  to 
man — liberty. 

8.  Gen.  Montgomery.  On  this  spot  he  died  in  the 
cause  of  American  Liberty.  May  his  name  have  a 
lasting  place  on  the  rolls  of  fame.     Drank  standing. 

9.  The  Tree  of  Liberty.  Planted  by  our  forefathers 
in  '76.  May  it  still  flourish  and  extend  its  fostering 
shade  over  the  entire  continent  of  America. 

10.  The  United  States  and  Great  Britain.  The  Ea- 
gle and  the  Lion.  With  bird  and  beast  let  there  be  no 
amalgamation. 

11.  The  President  of  the  United  States  of  America. 
A  citizen  exalted  by  the  suffrages  of  a  free  people.  May 
he  not  forget  that  his  present  seat  was  erected  by  the 
swords  of  such  men  as  Steuben,  Pulaski,  De  Kalb, 
Kosciusko,  Sterling,  and  Gates. 

12.  La  Belle  France.  The  land  of  glory  and  of  fame. 
She  once  gave  arms  and  a  Lafayette,  to  a  part  of  the 
British  colonies  in  America,  May  she  do  as  good  a 
turn  for  the  rest. 

13.  Our  own  Country.  The  home  of  the  free — the 
asylum  of  the  oppressed^ — and  the  dread  of  the  oppress 
sor.     May  we  soon  tread  its  shores.     3  times  3. 

While  the  cup  went  round  the  following  sentiments 
were  offered  and  drank  as— 


» 


I 


srished 
gift  to 

in  the 
have  a 
iing. 
ifathers 
>stering 

'he  Ea- 
e  be  no 

imerica. 

e.  May 

by  the 

Kalb, 

)f  fame, 
t  of  the 
good  a 

ee — the 
oppress 

timents 


DECLARATTON  OF  I^JDEPENDENCE. 


137 


VOLUNTEER    TOASTS. 

By  Gen.  S .     Canada.     The  United  States  had 

her  Washington,  South  America  her  Bolivar,  and  Swit- 
zerland her  Tell.     May  Canada  soon  show  her  man  also. 

By  Col.  D .     The  American  Eagle.     The  bird 

of  liberty.  May  she  still  soar  with  unexampled  suc- 
cess until  her  broad  wing  shall  flutter  with  its  protect- 
ing and  fostering  care  over  the  oppressed  and  suffering 
people  of  the  Canadas. 

By  — — .  The  rough  Despot  and  the  gilded  Ty- 
rant. The  monarchs  of  Russia  and  Great  Britain.  The 
British  king,  (or  queen,  or  some  such  thing,)  lately  sent 
an  agent  to  the  court  of  St.  Petersburgh,  as  a  mediator 
in  behalf  of  the  unfortunate  Poles.  May  the  autocrat 
of  Russia  return  the  compliment  by  sending  an  agent 
to  the  court  of  St.  James  to  mediate  in  behalf  of  the 
suffering  people  of  Canada. 

By  Mr.  P .     The  government  of  our  country.    A 

well  established  Democracy.  May  it  remain  what  it 
now  is  until  crowns  and  royalty  become  extinct. 

By  Mr.  S .     Free  governments.     The  greatest 

good  to  the  largest  number.  May  the  time  soon  come 
when  there  shall  be  none  other  on  this  continent. 

By.  Col.  D .  Gen.  Anthony  Wayne.     His  bones 

now  repose  on  the  shores  of  Erie.     May  his  services 

be  remembered.     Drank  standing. 

M2 


if 


1;. 


it 


ir:<; 


r:.5' 


m 


138 


A  CELEBRATION  OF  THE 


By  Mr.  C .  The  Patriots  of  the  Canadian  Revolu' 

tion.  Martyrs  in  the  cause  of  freedom.  May  tliey  yet 
see  tyranny  and  oppression  put  down  in  the  country,  and 
liberty  reared  upon  its  ruins. 

By  Mr.  P .  The  time,  place,  and  company.    A  band 

of  Patriot  prisoners — in  a  British  fortress — in  1838, 
May  the  memory  of  this  day,  and  the  individuals  who 
here  celebrate  the  anniversary  of  our  nation's  independ- 
ence never  be  erased. 

By  Gen.  S .    The  Queen  of  Great  Britain.     The 

feeble  monarch  of  a  mighty  nation.  We  should  admire 
her  most  as  Miss  Victoria  Guelph. 

By  Mr.  T .  The  surviving  Patriots  of  America. 

Our  ancestors  who  fought  in  the  cause  for  which  we 
now  suffer.  May  the  evening  of  their  days  be  as  se- 
rene as  their  morn  was  bright  and  glorious. 

By   .  Canadian  grievances.      i2c<?-dressed   by 

Great  Britain  with  20,000  soldiers.  May  the  people 
scorn  the  act. 

By  Mr.  P .  The  stars  and  stripes  of  America.  The 

flag  of  the  free.  May  it  never  cease  to  wave  while  the 
sun,  moon,  and  the  stars  hold  their  places  in  the  firma- 
ment. 

By  Gen.  S .  The  British  constitution.  Like  Cot- 
ton Mather's  witches,  existing  only  in  imagination. 
Let  its  spell  be  short  upon  us. 


Revolu' 
liey  yet 
try,  and 

A  band 
ki  1838, 
als  who 
depend- 

n»    The 
admire 

America. 
hich  we 
e  as  se- 

ssed  by 
5  people 

ca.  The 
rhile  the 
le  firma- 


I 


BECtARATION  OF  INDEPENDENCE. 


139 


By  Col.  D .  The  ladies  of  our  country.     Always 

first  in  the  cause  of  the  oppressed.  May  they  hold  the 
first  place  in  the  heart  of  every  true  patriot. 

It  might,  perhaps,  strike  the  minds  of  some  persons 
with  surprise  that  a  number  of  American  citizens  de- 
tained as  prisoners  by  Her  Majesty's  government,  and 
charged  with  having  aided  and  abetted  a  rebellion  in 
the  British  Provinces,  should  be  allowed  to  celebrate 
the  anniversary  of  the  day  on  which  the  most  extensive 
and  important  of  the  British  colonies  in  America  had 
declared  themselves  free  and  independent  states,  by  the 
performance  of  ceremonies,  and  the  discussion  of  a 
good  dinner,  in  the  citadel  of  one  of  Her  Majesty's  most 
important  fortified  towns  in  America.  But  such  was 
the  fact  in  1838— and  the  British  government  paid  the 
expense. 


iiM 


i\ 


H  m 


■  '■■I 


ike  Cot- 
^ination. 


.  V    1     ".I 


i  f 


j'l  i 


m  > 


ill 


*■:' 


•r 


!l  I 


ll-^i: 


BITE— THE   WORST. 


A  KNAVE  will  bite,  and  scorpion  like, 
His  sting  is  seldom  cured ; 

The  bite  of  rat,  or  testy  cat, 
Is  hard  to  be  endured. 


I    t 


But  more  than  these,  or  bite  of  fleas. 
Or  rabid  dog — I  fear  it's — 

A  bite  much  worse,  a  greater  curse — 
The  bite  of  ardent  spirits. 


^ ) 


A  newspaper  published  in  one  of  the  villages  of  the 
far  west,  says — "  A  man  who  had  purchased  a  bottle  of 
rum  at  a  store,  while  on  his  way  home,  tasted  so  freely 
and  frequently  of  the  creature,  that,  to  him,  the  world 
went  round  with  a  redoubled  velocity,  and  he  could  no 
longer  hold  his  perpendicular  standing — but  fell,  broke 
his  bottle,  spilled  his  liquor,  and  cut  his  hands  in  a  very 
severe  manner.  Being  afterward  asked  what  had 
wounded  his  hands — ^he  said,  he  had  been  bitten  by 
-a  bottle  of  rum !" 


MY   TAILOR. 


I  •• 


>     !    . 


Bs  of  the 
bottle  of 
50  freely 
le  world 
30uld  no 
11,  broke 
n  a  very 
hat  had 
ntten  by 


Ye  city  belles  who  dress  so  neat, 
And  dandies,  too,  who  walk  the  street, 
With  coats  all  buttoned  up  so  neat — 

Fd  have  you  now  take  notice, 

That  in  the  shop  'bove  Number  Four, 
Which  was  but  small  in  days  of  yore, 
But  now's  enlarged  ten  feet  or  more — 

To  make  it  more  convenient. 

You  can  be  fitted — ready  made. 
With  PANTALOONS — and  coats,  well  stayed. 
And  waistcoats — trimmed  all  o'er  with  braid  : 
And  cheaper  you'll  get  nowhere. 

If  you'd  be  fitted  with  a  coat. 
To  ride  in  stage,  or  packet  boat. 
And  have  no  cash— he'll  take  your  note, 
If  on  demand  you'll  pay  it. 

And  if  a  belle  would  have  a  dress, 
That  all  would  readily  confess, 
Made  her  appear  in  loveliness, 

Where'er  she  went  to  meeting : 


^l 


■Hi 


I.     ? 


\<'i 


Mi ' 


f-.: 


J 

\]'\ 

4 

] 

t 

1 

r 

1 

^ 

1  ! 

1 

J, 

1 

h 

! 

142 


ini    lAiLOR. 


There  is  no  man,  but  he  can  beat, 
To  fit  with  broad- cloth — all  complete, 
And  trim  it  off  with  lace  so  neat — 

And  charge  so  little  for  it. 

If  you  have  cloth  and  trimmings  all, 
To  make  a  suit  for  New-Years'  Ball, 
He'll  cut  and  make  it  neat  and  small — 

And  take  no  cabbage  from  it. 

And  if  youVe  holes  in  your  elbows. 
Or  any  rent  in  all  your  clothes, 
(As  every  one  now  surely  knows,) 

He's  the  true  man  to  mend  it. 


•< 


9 


Is 


w 


i 


T 


BLACK-EYED  MARYETT. 


% 


Her  oye,  (I'm  vrry  fond  of  handsome  eyes,) 
Was  largo  and  dark. — Byron. 

I. 

While  gay  and  lightsome  stops  I  treacly 
And  onward  pass  life's  sunny  course — * 

As  joys  crowd  fast  upon  my  head, 

And  pleasures  flow  from  every  source  :- 

While  mem'ry  lasts — I'll  ne'er  forget, 

My  little  black-eyed  Maryett. 

11. 
Let  fortune  pour  her  wealth  in  showers, 

And  with  bright  laurels  deck  my  brow — ^ 
Strew  every  path  with  glitt'ring  flowers— 

And  friends  around  admiring,  bow : — 
But  then — I  never  will  forget 
My  little  black-eyed  Maryett. 

III. 
Though  other  eyes  have  smiles  for  me, 

And  other  tongues  may  lisp  as  sweet — 
Though  forms  as  fair  I  oft  may  see, 

And  many  a  "  melting  blue  eye"  meet  :— 
Yet  no — ^not  then,  will  I  forget 
My  little  black-eyed  Mar>'ett. 


f 


'■<  #'  t. 


'f   'i 


1: 

i 


'It 

l*n| 


m^ 


m 


STANZAS,^  ~ 

Written  in  a  Lady's  Album. 


Ml 

'I' 

w 


•if 


if 


it     :  i  ■'    '■ 


I 


;l 


"  Love  is  the  only  loan  for  love," 

The  bard  doth  truly  sing ; 
So  kindred  spirits  from  above, 

To  each  their  tributes  bring. 

Then  from  affection's  purest  fount, 

I  would  a  proffer  make  ; 
And  though  so  e'er  of  small  account, 

I  pray  my  trifle  take. 

Yes,  take  my  love — it  will  not  change  ; 

With  thee — Fit  trifle  not ; 
And  while  you  rove  in  pleasure's  range, 

I  would  not  be  forgot. 

And  let  your  heart  the  gift  repay  ; 

My  name  around  it  twine — 
Let  me  in  truth,  for  ever  say — 

''  I  have  thy  love  for  mine." 


THE   MISTAKEN  BRIDE 


A  NOVEL— IN  THREE  CHAPTERS. 


CHAPTER  I. — THE  INTRODUCTION. 

For  aught  that  ever  I  could  read, 

Could  ever  hear  by  history  or  tale, 

The  course  of  true  love  never  did  run  smooth. 

Shakspeare. 

At  a  time,  near  the  close  of  the  last  century,  Coun- 
sellor Lashem  was  the  District  Attorney  for  the  city  of 
New- York.  He  was  a  man  of  acknowledged  legal  ac- 
quirements ;  he  had  a  high  and  exalted  mind,  and  was 
once  noted  for  the  possession  of  a  great  degree  of 
natural  goodness  of  heart.  But  from  a  continued  inti- 
macy with  rogues,  which  his  office  compelled  him  to, 
his  feelings  had  become  much  soured,  and  he  seemed  to 
have  imbibed  the  impression  that  mankind  was  in  the 
whole  but  one  great  family  of  rascals,  and  that  he,  like 
Lot  in  Sodom,  was  the  only  good  person  to  be  found 
among  them.     He  then  travelled  no  other  path  than 

that  of  his  business ;  he  had  become  retired  in  his  habits ; 

N 


1/ 


Tf 


146 


THE  MISTAKEN  BRIDE. 


V'      i 


^'1    .: 


..I 


i:  I 


■■I 

i      ;' 


^ 


ii  t 


,'^ 


and  he  shunned  all  intercourse,  except  with  the  unfor- 
tunate and  the  wretched,  with  whom  he  was  profes- 
sionally required  to  hold  communion.  His  manners  too, 
at  the  bar,  which  had  once  been  regarded  as  bland  and 
courteous,  had  become  harsh  and  austere,  and  this  had 
procured  for  him  the  cognomen  of  *^  public  persecutor ;" 
and  it  was  charged  by  many  that  he  was  unjustifiably 
severe,  and  that  he  oftentimes  laboured  unnecessarily 
to  produce  the  conviction  of  those  against  whom  it  had 
been  his  duty  to  appear  as  the  public  prosecutor.  Such 
was  Counsellor  Lashem,  who,  while  District  Attorney 

of  New-York,  kept  an  office   at  No.  in  V    ! 

street. 

In  his  office,  sat  the  Counsellor  one  morning,  surround- 
ed by  a  number  of  clerks  and  a  great  collection  of  rogues, 
and  unfortunate  persons,  (who  had  been  duped  or  robbed 
by  rogues,)  with  whom  he  was  consulting,  when  a  man, 
having  the  dress  and  appearance  of  a  countryman,  ac- 
companied by  a  couple  of  women,  entered  the  office, 
and  inquired  for  the  District  Attorney.  On  being  intro- 
duced to  the  Counsellor,  these  persons  requcvSted  an  in- 
terview with  him.  As  the  new  visiters  had  rather  more 
of  a  respectable  appearance  than  his  city  clients,  the 
Counsellor  invited  them  into  an  ante-office,  or  private 
consulting  room,  which  was  adjoining.  There  the  in- 
terview was  but  brief,  and  the  Counsellor  returned  to 


lii 


le  unfor- 
1  profes- 
aers  too, 
[and  and 
this  had 
jecutor ;" 
istifiably 
cessarily 
m  it  had 
*.  Such 
Attorney 
in   >r    '■■ 

urround- 
f  rogues, 
)r  robbed 
n  a  man, 
man,  ac- 
e  office, 
rig  intro- 
3d  an  in- 
ner more 
nts,  the 
r  private 
e  the  in- 
urned  to 


I 


i 


THE  MISTAKEN  BRIDE. 


147 


his  seat,  and  the  countryman  with  his  women  left  the 
office. 

A  few  days  after  this  interview,  a  paragraph  appear- 
ed in  one  of  the  newspapers  published  in  New- York, 
called  the  Luminary,  (a  name  given  to  the  print  for  no 
other  reason,  as  it  was  supposed,  than  because  it  never 
contained  anything  in  its  columns  luminous,  either  to 
the  eye,  or  the  mind,)  under  the  head  of  "  Police  Re- 
ports," setting  forth,  "  that  a  Mr.  Benjamin  Johnson, 
the  keeper  of  a  livery  stable  in  Greenwich-street,  had 
been  arrested  and  held  to  bail  on  a  charge  of  bigamy." 
The  editor  of  the  Luminary  then,  in  his  paragraph,  went 
on  to  say,  "  that  although  the  accused  was  most  re- 
spectably connected,  and  had  been  highly  esteemed  by 
the  citizens  to  whom  he  was  known,  the  testimony 
against  him  was  of  such  a  character  as  to  leave  no  doubt 
of  his  guilt ;  and  that  the  offence  was  the  more  ag- 
gravated, as  the  man  had  an  amiable  and  lovely  wife 
and  a  number  of  interesting  children,  at  the  time  of  the 
commission  of  the  offence  charged,  who  were  made  to 
suffer  on  account  of  his  conduct ;  and  that  the  person 
who  had  been  made  his  dupe  was  a  very  accomplished 
young  lady  residing  in  one  of  the  villages  on  the  Hudson, 
who  felt  deeply  the  disgrace  which  had  been  brought 
upon  her  by  his  heartless  villany  ;  and  that  it  had  also 
appeared  that  he  was,  when  he  perpetrated  the  unhallow- 


■1 


-!■ 

I 
It 

if 


I"     ] 

i^ '  fj-- 

I.  ('^ 

Hi 


i^    : 


!r ' 


■i 


.1  \' ' 


^^ 


148 


THE  MISTAKEN  BRIDE. 


J;'  .;•' 


ed  fraud  upon  his  young  and  confiding  victim,  living 
with  his  wife  in  the  city,  on  the  best  of  terms,  and  con- 
sequently could  never  have  entertained  a  thought  of 
abiding  with  the  other,  and  could  have  had  no  other  pos- 
sible motive  for  the  act,  than  the  gratification  of  one  of 
the  basest  propensities  of  man."  The  editor  of  another 
New- York  paper,  called  the  Pinkj  (perhaps,  because 
it  was  a  dirty,  smutty  thing,)  hung  out  at  the  door  of  his 
office,  a  large  sheet  of  paper  on  which  was  marked  with 
a  brush,  in  huge  letters,  a  notice  of  the  matter,  headed 
*'  Villanous  Transaction,"  with  an  assurance  to  those 
who  read  the  notice  that  the  next  number  of  the  Pink 
should  contain  a  full  and  exact  account  of  the  whole 
matter. 

About  this  time  there  existed  a  most  villanous  custom 
among  certain  young  men,  both  married  and  not  married, 
inhabiting  the  great  mercantile  emporium  of  America, 
which,  by  those  who  had  embraced  it,  was  facetiously 
denominated  "  smoking  the  beauties J^  It  was  thus  : 
whenever  any  of  these  worthy  young  men  became  op- 
pressed by  ennui,  or  worn  down  by  the  fatigues  of  busi- 
ness, they  would  shave  close,  put  on  a  rich  and  modest 
apparel,  and,  under  some  assumed  name,  stroll  off  through 
the  country  villages,  until  they  chanced  to  light  upon 
some  confiding  and  unsuspecting  country  girl  with  whom 
they  were  pleased,  and  with  her  agree  to  a  match,  con- 


I 


•I 


1,  living 
nd  con- 
lught  of 
tier  pos- 
f  one  of 
another 
because 
3r  of  his 
ied  with 
headed 
to  those 
le  Pink 
3  whole 


custom 
Harried, 
Lmerica, 
etiously 
thus  : 
ame  op* 
of  busi- 

modest 
through 
ht  upon 
h  whom 
ch, con^ 


• 


> 


THE  MISTAKEN  BRIDE. 


149 


summate  a  marriage,  and  then  leave  the  object  of  their 
deception — to  look  for  her  husband  the  rest  part  of  her 
life  ;  while  they  would  return  to  the  city,  throw  off  their 
assumed  name  and  dress,  and  there,  hiding  themselves 
behind  a  furious  pair  of  whiskers,  surrounding  their  face 
from  ear  to  ear,  with  a  pair  of  long  and  well  soaped  ear^ 
locks,  remain  secure  from  detection,  until  they  were 
ready  for  another  expedition  of  the  kind. 

Now,  whether  this  said  custom  of  proceeding  was 
being  continued  as  one  of  the  last  relics  of  those  adopted 
by  the  honest  Dutch  burghers  of  New- Amsterdam,  or 
as  having  been  introduced  by  the  more  modern  Anglo- 
Americans  of  New- York,  does  not  appear,  from  an 
examination  of  the  City-Hall  Record,  ever  to  have 
been  determined ;  although  we  do  therein  find  that  it 
has  often  been  decided  by  the  learned  Dickey  Riker,  that 
the  aforesaid  custom  of  proceeding  is  venal  in  the  ex- 
treme, highly  destructive  of  morals,  and  most  unjust  in 
its  effects  upon  the  fairtst  part  of  the  beaer  half  of  man- 
kind ;  and,  therefore,  that  the  practice  thereof  ought  to 
be  prevented  by  the  strong  arm  of  the  law. 

The  arrest  of  Johnson  had  no  sooner  been  announced 
in  New- York,  than  it  became  a  general  topic  of  conver- 
sation. While  some  doubted  the  truth  of  the  charge, 
many  thought  that  it  was  very  likely  to  be  true  ;  and  they 

believed  it  was  high  time  that  some  example  should  be 

N2 


hi 


.1 


: 


m    ':  I 


,  if- (-^* 


>«    t: 


150 


THE  MISTAKEN  BRIDE. 


|l  ;!• 


made  in  order  to  put  an  end  to  such  infamous  and  unjust 
proceedings. 

Johnson,  though  vexed  at  his  situation,  and  sorely 
hurt  by  the  grief,  which  the  circumstances  thrown  around 
him,  had  caused  his  wife,  feigned  to  care  nothing  about 
it,  and  attempted  to  laugh  the  matter  down.  But,  alas, 
for  him,  "  he  had  reckoned  without  his  host."  The 
laugh  was  decidedly  against  him. 

He  called  in  at  a  porter-house  one  evening,  where 
he  found  a  number  of  his  acquaintances  sitting  around  a 
table,  engaged  in  a  game  of  domino. 

"  Ha !  Johnson,"  said  one  of  them,  as  he  observed 
his  presence,  "  we  hear  you  have  entered  the  wrong 
cove,  and  have  had  the  smugglers' luck  in  attempting  to 
*  smoke  a  beauty.' " 

*'  It  appears,"  said  another,  "  you  have  got  your  hand 
into  the  trap  of  old  father-in-law,  while  grasping  after  a 
beauty." 

"  Johnson,"  cried  a  third,  as  he  clapped  down  a 
domino,  *'  if  you  will  take  my  advice,  my  dear  fellow, 
you  will  never  venture  a  trial  on  that  accusation.  Pay 
the  amount  of  your  bail  bond,  and  clear  out  for  Smyrna 
or  Constantinople  ;  there  you  may  have  half-a-dozen 
wives  if  you  think  you  can  support  them." 

"  No  !  no !"  says  another,  "  divide  the  amount  of  the 


[ 


i-m 


THE  MISTAKEN  BRIDE. 


151 


id  unjust 

i  sorely 
[1  around        I 
ng  about        | 
lut,  alas, 
."    The 


y^  where 
around  a 


observed 
le  wrong 
npting  to 

3ur  hand 
g  after  a 

down  a 
T  fellow, 
m.     Pay 

Smyrna 
-a-dozen 

nt  of  the 


' 


i 


bail  bond  between  the  priest  and  the  girl,  and  you  shall 
hear  no  more  of  the  affair.  They  will  never  appear 
against  you,  if  you  take  my  advice." 

So  it  went  with  one  class  ;  while  'another  set,  good 
people  they  were,  thought  there  could  be  no  doubt  of 
Johnson's  guilt ;  although  they  acknowledged  they  knew 
nothing  of  the  matter  except  what  they  had  received 
from  the  mouth  of  that  lying  wench,  public  report. 
There  was  one  man  who  "  did  not  consider  it  proper  to 
deal  with  a  person  charged  with  such  an  immoral  of- 
fence." Another  "  would  not  trust  his  horses  in  the 
keeping  of  a  man  of  such  a  character ;"  and  others 
"  would  not  even  hire  a  horse  from  such  a  man ;"  and 
so  one  after  another  had  withdrawn  their  intercourse 
with  Johnson,  until  he  had  no  horses  to  keep,  but  his 
own  ;  and  those  none  came  to  hire ;  and  ere  the  day 
arrived  for  his  trial,  he  found  himself  fairly  out  of  busi- 
ness. Thus,  what  Johnson  was  at  first  disposed  to  put 
down  as  a  mere  troublesome  joke,  had  thrown  him  upon 
a  fearful  crisis  ;  and  he  was  not  remiss  in  the  employ- 
ment of  able  and  competent  counsel  to  conduct  his  de- 
fence. 

The  counsel  retained  by  Johnson,  Mr.  Silkland,  an 
accomplished  lawyer  of  the  city,  made  a  full  examina- 
tion of  all  the  circumstances  connected  with  the  accusa- 
tion, and  caused  to  be  subpoenaed  a  large  number  of 


ill 


u';i 


i! 


152 


THE  MISTAKEN  BRIDE. 


ill* 


witnesses  to  attend  the  trial,  to  testify  on  behalf  of  the 
accused ;  and  this  was  all  of  the  preparation  for  John- 
son's defence  which  was  then  known  to  the  public. 

At  the  time  when  occurred  the  transactions  of  which 
I  am  now  writing  the  history,  there  resided  in  one  of 
the  small  villages  situated  on  the  banks  of  the  Hudson, 
some  thirty  or  forty  miles  above  the  city  of  New-York, 
a  widow  woman  of  the  name  of  Simons ;  who  was, 
however,  more  generally  known  by  the  familiar  appel- 
lation of  "  Aunt  Simons."  She  was  well  off  in  the 
world — having  a  good  and  valuable  lot  of  land,  of  two 
hundred  acres  or  more,  cornering  in  the  village,  with  a 
very  comfortable  dwelling,  which  she  occupied  with 
her  only  child,  a  daughter  of  eighteen  or  twenty  years, 
whose  name  was  Desdemona— or  Desta,  as  she  was 
called. 

Aunt  Simons  was  something  past  the  meridian  of 
life,  and  as  she  used  to  express  it,  had  been  "  a  lone 
widow  for  many  a  long  year."  Her  husband  had  died 
while  she  was  but  a  trifle  more  than  thirty,  leaving  her 
the  farm — and  Desta,  who  was  then  an  infant ;  and 
notwithstanding  the  farm  had  procured  her  now  and 
then  a  suitor.  Aunt  Simons  guessed  "  they  ca^^is  to 
woo  the  widow  and  marry  the  farm,"  and  so  she  con- 
tinued to  cultivate  it  herself,  and  under  her  own  par- 
ticular directions,  and  to  occupy  the  old  homestead 


# 


. 


IH 


THE  MISTAKEN  BRIDE. 


163 


of  the 
r  John- 
)lic. 

f  which 

one  of 

ludson, 

NT-York, 

LO  was, 

appel- 

in  the 

of  two 

,  with  a 

id  with 

r  years, 

he  was 

dian  of 
a  lone 
ad  died 
ing  her 
It ;  and 
ow  and 
ai*:s  to 
le  con- 
im  par- 
lestead 


with  no  other  companion  than  her  daughter,  on  whose 
education  and  comely  appearance,  she  very  much 
prided  herself. 

"  Though  Desta  had  been  brought  up  by  a  woman," 
as  Aunt  Simons  used  frequently  to  remark,  "  without  the 
assistance  of  a  father,  she  did  not  see  but  she  appear- 
ed as  well  as  any  of  the  girls  in  the  village."  It  was 
true.  Aunt  Simons'  daughter  was  really  a  very  fine 
looking  country  girl ;  and  that  she  had  been  sufficiently 
educated  to  make  a  fit  companion  for  a  farmer  or  me- 
chanic— was  evidently  no  joke !  But  with  Aunt  Simons, 
Desta  had  been  intended  for  a  lady ;  and  being  an  only 
and  a  favourite  child,  she  had  hence  been  in  the  way  of 
receiving  more  of  the  care  and  instruction  of  her  mo- 
ther, who,  as  she  became  older,  fancied  shQ  understood 
the  philosophy  of  mankind  the  better,  and  was  there- 
fore the  more  capable  of  moulding  her  daughter  to  suit 
the  world's  fashion. 

Miss  Desta  had  been  sent  three  whole  quarters  to  a 
boarding  school  in  New- York.  She  had  taken  lessons 
in  drawing  from  a  good  teacher  who  had  happened  to 
be  staying  in  the  village  ;  and  had  received  instructions 
from  a  strolling  music  master.  Dancing,  however,  had 
not  been  added  to  Miss  Desta's  accomplishments.  For 
why  ?     Aunt  Simons  was  a  member  of  a  religious  so- 


II '1 


I 


I: 

iv! 

■i'  ;  it 


,..,, 


^1/  ' 

r 

11 

1 

1 

ill 

^^^1 

1 ' 

■  '• 

I  ! 

J 

B 1 ' 

^^m  ■  m  ''^ 

u 

W[  '^  \  '■ 

;^^B|  / 

[1 

1 

1 

I 

*  ]m 


r.' 


154 


THE  MISTAKEN  BRIDE. 


ciety,  which  denied  a  participation  in  such  amusements  ; 
and  it  would  not  have  been  becoming  in  her  to  have 
her  daughter  taught  to  practice  that  which  had  been 
pronounced  sinful  by  her  religious  friends ;  and  now 
that  Miss  Desta  had  arrived  at  the  full  growth  of  wo- 
manhood she  certainly  exhibited  no  indifferent  appear- 
ance. Sho  had  accomplished  a  number  of  fine  draw- 
ings of  the  romantic  scenery  on  the  river  in  their  neigh- 
bourhood, with  some  other  pretty  pictures  ;  and  with  a 
good  natural  voice,  and  the  instructions  she  had  receiv- 
ed, she  sung  tolerably  well — and  could  thumb  the 
piano ;  for  she  had  such  a  music  machine,  a  second- 
hand one,  which  had  been  presented  her  while  very 
young  by  one  of  her  mother's  suitors.  With  all  these 
accomplishraents,  Miss  Desta  was,  as  it  may  be  sup- 
posed, no  very  bad  company ;  and  many  a  country  swain 
had  sighed  for  her,  and  begged  to  become  her  lover. 
But  her  heart  was  yet  as  free  as  air.  It  had  not  re- 
ceived one  single  shaft  from  the  bow  of  Cupid.  Aunt 
Simons  had  taught  her  that  she  was  to  be  a  lady — and 
Miss  Desta  now  felt  she  was  a  lady ;  and  she  kept  herself 
aloof  from  the  sons  of  the  farmers  and  mechanics  of 
the  village  and  neighbourhood,  with  the  idea  that  she 
was  intended  for  something  better  than  the  rough  em- 
braces of  those  who  follow  the  profession  and  employ- 


THE  MISTAKEN  BRIDE. 


155 


sments ; 
to  have 
ad  been 
md  now 
I  of  wo- 
t  appear- 
16  draw- 
lir  neigh- 
id  with  a 
d  receiv- 
umb   the 
,  second- 
lile  very 
all  these 
be  sup- 
ry  swain 
er  lover. 
1  not  re- 
d.     Aunt 
,dy — and 
pt  herself 
lanics  of 
that  she 
lugh  em- 
employ- 


ment of  Cain ;  and  looked  for  a  husband  from  among 
those  only  who  were  raised  above  the  curse  "  of  eating 
their  bread  in  the  sweat  of  their  faces." 

The  exalted  notions  of  Desta  Simons,  had  with- 
drawn her  much  from  the  society  of  the  village  people, 
by  whom  she  was  rather  regarded  as  a  person  not  of  them. 
From  the  young  persons  with  whom  she  had  grown  up, 
she  had  respect — but  not  love  ;  and  she  preferred  her 
condition,  though  somewhat  lonely,  to  being  lowered 
as  she  deemed  she  must  be  by  their  familiarity.  Mat- 
ters were  thus  with  Miss  Desta,  when  a  young  stran- 
ger made  his  appearance  in  the  village.  He  was  gen- 
demanly  in  his  manners,  tall  and  well  dressed  ;  and 
wore  a  broach  in  his  bosom,  with  a  gold  safety-chain 
ostentatiously  displayed  about  his  neck,  attached  to  a 
rich  looking  gold  watch,  which  he  carried  in  his  waist- 
coat pocket ;  and  an  emerald  glittered  in  a  gold  ring 
upon  the  little  finger  of  his  left  hand,  which  was  as 
much  as  to  say,  he  was  in  search  of  a  wife. 

The  name  given  by  the  stranger,  as  his,  was  Benja- 
min Johnson  ;  and  it  was  whispered  about  the  village 
that  he  was  the  son  of  a  rich  land  speculator  residing 
in  one  of  the  western  states — and  that  he  had  money. 
It  was  certain  he  had  some  change,  for  he  paid  his 
washerwoman  regularly,  and  the  bill  for  his  board  at 


J 


,11 


i' 


■I 


>  lit'. 


U  ■       i 


!  i  y 


irf 


lb' 

!  mm  t- 


I) 

't     111 


I 


liilp 


156 


THE  MISTAKEN  BRIDE. 


the  village  tavern,  where   he  had  taken  lodgings,  was 
punctually  discharged  at  the  end  of  every  week. 

Then,  it  so  happened,  in  a  very  short  time  after  the 
stranger  made  his  appearance  in  the  village,  that  he 
obtained  an  introduction  to  Miss  Simons.  How  this 
came  about,  the  historian  hath  no  particular  knowledge ; 
but  so  it  was,  and  in  a  few  weeks  thereafter,  he,  with 
Miss  Desta  and  her  mother,  took  an  excursion  in  a 
steamboat  to  New-York,  and  Miss  Desdemona  Simons 
came  back  as  Mrs.  Johnson,  and  another  plate  was  add- 
ed to  the  table  of  Aunt  Simons. 

Though  Johnson  carried  in  his  manners  a  little  of 
thes  wagger  of  a  western  beau,  who  felt  that  he  was  in  the 
way  of  making  his  fortune  by  speculations  upon  the 
building  lots  of  some  "  paper  city" — or  with  the  stocks 
of  a  "  Wild-cat  Bank,"  nevertheless,  he  was  in  the 
general,  modest  and  unassuming,  and  easily  obtained 
the  courtesy  of  the  village  people ;  and  as  Desta  had 
long  before  the  coming  of  Johnson  to  the  place,  turned 
her  back  upon  all  the  country  fellows,  none  of  them 
had  regarded  him  exactly  as  a  rival ;  and  when  he 
tendered  them  wine  at  the  public  house  they  all  very 
cheerfully  joined  together  to  drink  the  health  of  the  new 
married  couple. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Johnson  then  took  another  trip  in  a 


s 


,» 


THE  MISTAKEN  BRIDE. 


167 


ings,  was 
ek. 

after  the 
5,  that  he 
How  this 
owledge ; 
•,  he,  with 
sion  in  a 
la  Simons 
5  was  add- 

a  little  of 
was  in  the 

upon  the 
he  stocks 
as  in  the 

obtained 

esta  had 
|ce,  turned 
of  them 

when  he 
all  very 

f  the  new 

trip  in  a 


steamboat — and  their  honeymoon  passed  with  no  other 
notable  occurrence.  After  which,  Johnson  entered  one 
of  the  village  stores,  as  a  kind  of  cadet  merchant,  with 
the  avowed  intention  of  opening  a  store  in  the  village 
i  for  himself,  so  soon  as  he  should  become  sufficiently 
acquainted  with  the  business  and  the  people,  to  venture 
upon  it. 

The  seventh  week  after  his  marriage  with  Miss  Si- 
mons had  expired,  when  Johnson  received  a  letter  from 
New- York,  which  he  read  to  his  h  Ide,  as  well  as  to  Aunt 
Simons.  It  purported  to  be  from  a  fri«  nd  who  had  just 
arrived  in  the  city  from  tV  e  vest,  and  barely  contained 
a  request  that  Johnson  would  come  down  to  iNiew-York, 
in  the  next  boat,  as  the  writer  wished  to  see  him  there 
immediately  on  some  particular  business,  which  the 
letter  did  not  communicate — and  on  the  next  day  John- 
son left  for  New-York. 


CHAPTER  II. — THE  MYSTERY. 

Old  men,  and  beldames  in  the  streets 
Do  prophecy  upon  it  dangerously. 

Shakspeare. 

According  to  appointment,  Johnson  was  to  have  re- 
turned to  his  bride  at  the  end  of  a  week  after  his  de- 

0 


■u 


I] 


'I 


If'i 


"l 


\m 


lifl 


r 


158 


THE  MISTAKEN  BRIDE. 


-if 


i';„.1, 


:'i  H 


■'     ■   ■'  if  »■ 
1      '      t     "I 


»  5    f 


parture.  The  week  passed,  and  on  the  day  he  was  ex- 
pected, two  or  three  steamboats  came  up  from  New- 
York — ^but  no  Mr.  Johnson  with  them.  One,  two,  and 
three  weeks  more  passed  away,  yet  no  husband  came 
to  Desta ;  and  when  another  week  had  gone,  she  ceased 
to  watch  the  landings  from  the  boats,  as  they  daily 
passed  up  the  Hudson  ;  and  when  six  or  eight  weeks 
had  elapsed  after  Johnson's  departure,  and  brought  no 
account  from  him,  Desta  began  to  fear  she  was  de- 
serted. She  wrote  to  Johnson  at  New- York,  but  got 
no  reply.  She  then  caused  inquiries  to  be  made  for 
him  in  the  city,  with  the  like  unsatisfactory  result.  Af- 
ter this,  Desta  and  Aunt  Simons  settled  upon  the  opinion 
that  Johnson  must  have  either  been  drowned  or  murder- 
ed ;  how  else  they  knew  not  to  account  for  his  absence. 

Among  the  people  of  the  village,  the  absence  of 
Johnson  had  become  a  matter  of  general  remark  ;  but 
they  came  not  to  so  charitable  a  conclusion  as  Desta 
and  her  mother.  With  them  it  was  the  accepted  opi- 
nion "  that  Johnson  was  no  western  man,  as  he  had  pre- 
tended, but  a  smoke  from  New- York ;  and  that  Desta 
was  a  deserted  bride.'^ 

A  knot  of  the  country  fellows  were  together  on  an 
evening  in  the  bar-room  of  the  village  tavern.  "  Ha, 
ha,  ha,"  said  one,  who  had  once  aspired  in  his  heart  to 
become  a  suitor  of  Desta.     "  I  thought  it  would  turn 


<• 


I 


Was  ex- 
n  New- 
two,  and 
id  came 
e  ceased 
ey  daily 
it  weeks 
)ught  no 
was  dc- 
:,  but  got 
nade  for 
ult.     Af- 
c  opinion 
r  murder- 
absence, 
sence  of 
ark ;  but 
IS  Desta 
pted  opi- 
had  pre- 
at  Desta 

er  on  an 


1. 


(( 


Ha, 
5  heart  to 
ould  turn 


§ 


i 


THE  MISTAKEN  BRIDE. 


159 


out  just  SO  for  Miss  Simons.  I  knew  from  the  first  that 
that  this  Johnson  could  be  no  more  than  a  smohe  come 
up  from  the  city,  to  impose  upon  our  girls.  His  story 
of  the  west  is  all  fudge.     New-York  is  his  home." 

"  Well,  the  Yorker's  trick  could  not  be  played  on  a 
more  deserving  person,"  responded  another. 

"  Pride  will  have  *  its  fall,' "  said  another,  who  had 
also  been  ambitious  for  Desta's  hand  ;  and  thus  it  seem- 
ed that  the  young  men  were  rather  inclined  to  laugh  at  her 
misfortune.  She  had  held  herself  too  much  of  the  lady, 
to  receive  expressions  of  sympathy  from  any  of  them. 

Desta  did  not  often  appear  out,  but  one  day  she  was 
induced  to  accompany  her  mother  on  a  visit  to  a  friend, 
who  was  then  sick.  Returning  home  they  became  fa- 
tigued by  their  walk,  and  called  at  the  house  of  a  neigh- 
bour. The  woman  and  her  two  daughters  were  in ;  and 
Aunt  Simons  and  Desta  were  no  more  than  fairly  seated 
when^^  the  woman  and  her  daughters  began  their  in- 
quiries and  remarks  about  Johnson. 

"  It  is  true,"  said  one  of  the  girls,  "  we  do  not  know 
that  Miss  Desta  has  been  wronged,  but  if  young  wo- 
men will  set  themselves  up  for  city  chaps,  they  must 
not  complain  if  they  get  deceived  by  city  chaps." 

"  I  suppose  we  may  call  Desta  a  widow,"  said  the 
other  of  the  girls,  "  and  I  guess  she  would  be  glad  to 


i)» 


•I 


i  If 

li'.  i 


nT 


•n.i 


160 


THE  MISTAKEN  BRIDE. 


have  our  brother  George,  now  ;  but  once  she  thought 
herself  too  good  for  him." 

"  Aunt  Simons,  I  really  pity  your  daughter,"  said  the 
mother ;  "  but  then  there  is  no  good  ever  to  be  expect- 
ed from  these  short  courtships  and  quick  matches." 

Desta  had  become  offended  at  the  speeches  of  the 
girls,  and  had  risen  to  indicate  her  desire  to  leave  ;  then, 
as  the  remark  was  made  by  the  woman  to  her  mother, 
she  tartly  replied,  "  Well,  madam,  you  may  think  so, 
but  it  would  be,  perhaps,  as  modest  to  amend  your  fa- 
mily record." 

Desta's  eyes  were  at  the  moment  resting  upon  a  fa- 
mily record,  on  a  scroll  fixed  in  a  large  gilt  frame  which 
hung  upon  a  wall  of  the  room.  From  the  dates  of 
the  events  of  the  family,  as  it  appeared  upon  the  record, 
George  had  two  more  years  for  his  age  than  the  date 
of  his  mother's  marriage  showed  her  to  have  been  a  wife. 
So  that,  on  the  whole,  the  record  presented  a  most  no- 
vel exhibition  of  an  irregularity.  This  Desta  had  ob- 
served, and  she  could  not  resist  the  use  of  a  suggestion 
of  it,  as  a  retort  to  the  woman  for  her  impudent  slant  at 
her  short  courtship.  Having  replied  to  her  own  satis- 
faction, Desta  would  not  consent  to  remain  longer  to 
continue  so  disagreeable  a  confab,  as  they  were  then  en- 
gaged in — and  she  seized  hold  of  Aunt  Simons,  and 


» 


•ii 


F' 


i»  s  ' 


thought 

;aid  the 
expect- 


» 


3S. 

of  the 
J ;  then, 
mother, 
link  80, 
^'our  fa- 

on  a  fa- 
B  which 
lates  of 
record, 
le  date 
i  a  wife, 
lost  no- 
liad  ob- 
rgestion 
slant  at 
n  satis- 
nger  to 
hen  en- 
ms,  and 


THE  MISTAKEN  BRIDE. 


161 


V,i 


th  her  left  the  house  immediately  and  returned  to 
their  home. 

A  few  months  after  Johnson  had  left,  and  when  Des- 
ta  was  bearing  the  title  of  the  deserted  hride^  one  of 
their  neighbours  had  been  down  to  New- York,  and  re- 
turned with  the  information  that  he  had  seen  Johnson 
in  the  city,  that  he  was  keeping  a  livery  stable  in 
Greenwich-street ;  which  piece  of  information  he  lost 
no  time  in  communicating  to  Desta  and  Aunt  Simons. 
That  the  truth  or  falsehood  of  this  story  might  be  fully 
ascertained,  Aunt  Simons  procured  an  agent  to  go  down 
to  the  city,  and  inquire  into  the  matter.  Upon  the  re- 
turn of  this  agent,  he  not  only  confirmed  what  had  been 
stated  by  the  neighbour,  but  brought  the  farther  account 
that  Johnson  had  another  wife  and  a  number  of  chil- 
dren, with  whom  he  was  then  residing. 

Thus  havinor  obtained  what  was  deemed  certain  evi- 

dence  of  Johnson's  perfidy.  Aunt  Simons  regarded  him 

as  a  chosen  villain,  and  her  heart  gave  place  to  no  other 

feelings  than  those  of  indignation  and  revenge.     She 

was  fairly  enraged  at  the  insult  and  disgrace  which  had 

been  brought  upon  them  as  she  supposed  by  Johnson. 

Poor  Desta,  as  yet,  could  feel  but  little  bitterness  toward 

Johnson,  though  she  was  suffering  the  fullest  effects  of 

wounded  pride  ;  for  when  woman  has  once  loved,  she 

will  continue  to  do  so,  even  through  great  wrong.     But 

02 


It  , 
TV 

T 


ii.' 


I 

'  !( 


i 


1  ^Kl 


I 


Ml 


I  »■ 


162 


THE  MISTAKEN  BRIDE. 


she  was  now  compelled  to  accept  the  opinion  which 
had  before  been  generally  entertained  by  others,  that 
she  was  a  deserted  bride ;  and  her  spirits  became  en- 
tirely subdued  by  grief  and  chagrin. 

As  soon  as  the  necessary  preparations  could  be  made, 
Aunt  Simons  and  Desta  packed  off  to  New- York,  and 
had  an  interview  with  the  District  Attorney,  who  caused 
Benjamin  Johnson,  then  keeping  a  livery  stable  in 
Greenwich-street,  to  be  arrested ;  and,  on  the  deposi- 
tions of  Desdemona  Simons  and  her  mother,  he  was 
held  to  bail  to  answer  the  charge  of  bigamy,  which  they 
prefered  against  him  at  the  next  court  of  General  Ses- 
sions of  the  Peace,  at  which  court  a  bill  of  indictment 
was  brought  in  against  him  by  the  grand  jury,  and  he 
was  again  held  to  bail  to  appear  at  the  next  succeeding 
term  of  the  General  Sessions  for  trial. 

The  term  of  the  Sessions  commenced,  and  the  day  on 
which  the  indictment  against  Johnson  was  to  be  travers- 
ed arrived.  It  was  the  second  day  of  the  term,  and  by 
the  time  the  Recorder  and  the  Aldermen  had  taken 
theirplaces  upon  the  bench,  the  court-room  was  crowded 
with  spectators.  Mr.  Silkland  had  taken  a  seat  within 
the  bar,  and  as  the  court  was  ready  to  proceed  with 
business.  Counsellor  Lashem  entered  the  bar,  bearing 
under  his  arm  a  bundle  of  indictments,  so  cumbrous  that 
one  might  have  supposed  him  proceeding  to  attend  a 


'  ii 


THK  MISTAKEN  BRIDE. 


163 


I  which 
3rs,  that 
me  en- 

e  made, 
ork,  and 
)  caused 
table  in 
deposi- 
he  was 
ich  they 
ral  Ses- 
]ictment 
,  and  he 
seceding 

e  day  on 
travers- 
,  and  by 
,d  taken 
crowded 
,t  within 
ed  with 
bearing 
rous  that 
attend  a 


L 


Court  of  Chancery,  rather  than  a  General  Sessions  of 
the  Peace. 

Upon  entering  the  bar,  Mr.  Lashem  drew  out  from 
his  bundle  of  papers,  an  indictment,  and  was  about  to 
direct  the  crier  to  call  Benjamin  Johnson,  when  his  eye 
fell  on  Mr.  Silkland,  to  whom  he  said,  "  I  am  advised 
that  you  defend  Mr.  Johnson  on  this  indictment.  Are  you 
ready  for  his  trial,  sir  ?" 

"  Ready,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Silkland ;  and  then  beck- 
oned to  Johnson,  who  was  standing  near  by,  without 
the  bar,  and  directed  him  to  take  a  seat  beside  him  at  the 
counsel's  table. 

Counsellor  Lashem  now  directed  the  crier  to  call 
Desdemona  Simons  ;  and  after  her  name  had  been  cried 
several  times  with  a  voice  like  a  stentor,  exiting  no 
small  degree  of  interest  among  the  spectators,  who  were 
eager  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  fair  one  inquired  for, 
a,  person  entered  the  bar  and  informed  Mr.  Lashem  that 
the  complainant  and  her  witnesses  were  in  attendance, 
ready  to  come  into  court  when  required.  Counsellor 
Lashem  then  moved  the  court  for  a  jury  to  try  Benjamin 
Johnson  on  an  indictment  for  bigamy. 

While  the  clerk  was  engaged  in  drawing  a  jury, 
Counsellor  Lashem  said  to  Mr.  Silkland,  "  Sir,  you 
had  better  advise  your  client  to  plead  guilty  to  this 
indictment,  and  spare  me  the  trouble  of  trying  him ; 


i  li 


fii 


V/A 


ill 


lir 


164 


THE  MISTAKEN  BRIDE. 


iV''; 


,i:  m} 


and  then  you  may,  perhaps,  by  so  doing  save  him  a  year 
or  two  from  the  term  of  the  penalty." 

"  My  client,"  answered  Mr.  Silkland,  *'  will  want  no 
mitigation  of  any  penalty  you  can  fix  upon  him  by 
this  trial." 

"  His  guilt,  sir,"  replied  Counsellor  Lashem,  "  will  be 
established  beyond  a  doubt.  The  testimony  against 
liim  will  be  both  positive  and  conclusive  ;  and,  then,  he 
ought  to  suffer  for  wronging  so  pretty  a  creature.  Why, 
man !  the  girl  is  quite  a  lady." 

"  The  girl  may  be  a  lady,  for  aught  I  know  or  care," 
responded  Mr.  Silkland,  "  but  as  to  the  testimony,  you 
may  change  your  mind  after  you  have  heard  the  de- 
fence." 

"  Defence !"  replied  Counsellor  Lashem.  "  Fudge  ! 
your  client  can  have  no  defence.  When  I  shall  close 
the  proofs,  my  dear  Silkland,  you  will  not  find  ground 
to  step  the  first  foot  of  an  argument  upon — unless  you 
are  going  to  rely  upon  the  rogue's  usual  defence,  and 
attempt  to  prove  an  alibi,  which  signifies,  as  I  sup- 
pose  you  know,  a-lie-by." 

By  this  time,  the  drawing  of  the  jury  had  been  com- 
pleted, and  having  been  accepted  and  sworn.  Counsel- 
lor Lashem  rose  and  opened  the  cause,  by  briefly  stating 
to  the  court  and  jury  the  offence  with  which  Johnson 


t 


;t  ! 


a  a  year 

want  no 
him  by 

'  will  be 

against 

then,  he 

Why, 


)r  care 


» 


my,  you 
the  de- 
Fudge  ! 
ill  close 
ground 
less  you 
ice,  and 
I  sup- 

m  com- 
ounsel- 


'•  stating 
Fohnson 


THE  MISTAKEN  BRIDB. 


165 


5tood  charged,  and  the  nature  of  the  testimony  he  would 
I  adduce  to  sustain  the  charge,  which  he  assured  the 
jurors  would  be  so  conclusive,  as  to  leave  in  their  minds 
no  reasonable  doubt  of  the  prisoner's  guilt. 
I  Desdemona  Simons,  the  complainant,  was  then  called 
by  Counsellor  Lashem ;  she  came  into  court  accompa- 
nied by  Aunt  Simons,  and  took  her  place  upon  the 
witnesses'  stand.  It  will  be  unnecessary  to  give  any 
farther  description  of  her  person  and  appearance  on  the 
occasion,  than  to  say  she  was  well  dressed  in  the  fashion 
of  the  day ;  she  wore  a  rich  Leghorn  hat,  en  cavalier^ 
and  looked  very  much  like  a  village  belle.  But  Aunt 
Simons,  who  had  taken  a  seat  near  her  daughter,  I  must 
not  pass  so  lightly.  She,  in  spite  of  her  age,  which  was 
something  more  than  half  a  century,  attracted  the  greater 
share  of  the  attention  of  the  spectators.  Her  person 
was  somewhat  under  the  common  stature  of  females. 
She  was  strait  as  an  arrow,  and  possessed  a  quick 
motion  of  the  body,  and  moved  with  a  rapid  step.  She 
was  then  shown  off  in  a  black  lutestring  dress, 
with  tight  sleeves  and  long  skirt,  in  which  there  were 
plaited  behind,  as  many  breadths  of  silk  as  a  Turk  would 
have  gathered  in  a  pair  of  trousers.  Her  face  was 
once  comely,  but  the  hand  of  time  had  made  it  as  parch- 
ment-like in  appearance  as  that  of  an  Egyptian  mummy. 
Her  nose  had  been  a  little  aquiline  in  its  order,  but  then 


'i 


111 


i 


\  '  .y% 


\% 


166 


THE  MISTAKEN  BRIDE. 


tm 


.'llr 


!3i'!  ;i^ 


t  si 


it  seemed  as  hooked  as  a  parrot's ;  and  above  it  her  little 
dark  eyes  still  twinkled  with  a  moiety  of  that  lustre  with 
which  they  had  glistened  in  an  earlier  day.  Around 
her  neck  she  wore  a  string  of  plain  gold  beads,  which 
was  the  only  ornament  that  adorned  her  person.  With 
her,  "  the  doors  were  shut  in  the  street,"  as  her  teeth 
were  entirely  gone  ;  and  this  occasioned  her  lips  to  be 
very  much  compressed,  and  thereby  to  give  her  nose 
and  chin  a  more  than  natural  prominent  appearance. 
Her  hair  was  put  back  from  her  face — for  over  her  brow 
"  the  almond  tree  had  blossomed" — and  her  head  was 
covered  with  a  tight  cap,  over  which  she  wore  a  little, 
stinted,  quaker-fashioned,  black  silk  bonnet,  fitted  snugly, 
and  fastened  close  around  her  face  and  ears.  Such  was 
the  figure  and  garb  of  Aunt  Simons  as  she  presented 
herself  in  court,  beside  her  daughter. 

From  Desta's  countenance,  while  giving  in  her  tes- 
timony, there  was  evidence  of  conflicting  feelings 
within  her  bosom ;  and  it  was  difficult  to  determine  what 
passions  were  most  predominant  in  her  mind — whether 
it  was  grief  and  sorrow,  or  pride  and  revenge.  But 
Aunt  Simons  looked  the  very  picture  of  revenge. 

After  being  sworn,  Desta  briefly  deposed  to  the  fact 
of  her  marriage,  on  the  day  specified  in  the  indictment, 
to  a  Mr.  Benjamin  Johnson,  whom  she  believed  to  be 
the  accused,  who  was  then  at  the  bar.     She  said  "  she 


> 


THE  MISTAKEN  BRIDE. 


167 


ler  little 
tre  with 
Around 
J,  which 
.     With 
?,r  teeth 
ps  to  be 
ler  nose 
earance. 
ler  brow 
ead  was 
5  a  little, 
I  snugly, 
uch  was 
resented 

her  tes- 
feelings 
ine  what 
whether 
^e.  But 
e. 

the  fact 
ictment, 
ed  to  be 
lid  "  she 


was  confident  he  was  the  same  person ;"  and  at  the 
suggestion  of  Mr.  Silkland,  Johnson  stood  up  thit  she 
might  have  a  fair  view  of  his  person.  She  said  "  he 
was  then  dressed  differently  from  any  manner  in  which 
she  had  before  seen  him ;  but  she  was  sure — she  could 
not  be  mistaken — she  was  positive  he  was  the  very 
same  individual  to  whom  she  had  been  married." 

The  marriage  of  Johnson  to  the  wife  with  whom  he 
then  lived,  some  years  previous  to  the  time  on  which  it 
was  alleged  he  had  been  married  to  Desta,  was  duly 
admitted  by  him.  Counsellor  Lashem  then  called  upon 
the  stand  the  individual  who  had  officiated  at  the  mar- 
riage forming  the  ground  of  the  complaint,  and  upon 
which  was  based  the  trial.  This  person  was  a  minis- 
ter of  one  of  the  religious  societies  of  the  city  of  New- 
York,  and  he  having  been  sworn,  produced  a  book  in 
which  he  testified  he  kept  a  registry  of  such  marriages 
as  were  solemnized  by  him ;  and  in  this  book  there 
appeared  an  entry,  in  the  words  and  figures,  following  ; 
"New- York,  4th  day  of  July,  Anno  Domini,  18 — . 
United  in  the  holy  bands  of  matrimony,  Mr.  Benjamin 
Johnson,  gentleman,  to  Miss  Desdemona  Simons,  spin- 
ster, both  of — .  Witnesses,  &c." 

After  producing  his  book  of  registry,  the  witness 
farther  testified  that  he  recollected  having  married  par- 
ties on  the  day  specified  in  his  record,  and  that  he 


V 


i  1 


I  ■ 


¥    In' 


w- 


PI 


1       1 


-■;  '-  I. 


168 


THE  MISTAKEN  BRIDE. 


i«.v 


;•    :i 


'>  i   i  i. 


t  '  ', 


f;; 


believed  that  the  complainant  who  sat  near  him,  and  the 
accused  at  the  bar,  were  those  parties  he  had  so  mar- 
ried. 

Upon  the  cross  examination,  "  witness,"  said  Mr. 
Silkland,  "are  you  confident  that  this  marriage  you 
have  testified  to  took  place  on  the  fourth  day  of  July  V 

"  I  am  positive,"  replied  the  witness,  "  as  I  recollect 
marrying  no  such  parties  on  any  other  day — nor  have 
I  any  record  in  my  register  which  allows  me  to  believe 
I  could  be  mistaken,  as  to  the  day." 

"  Are  you  alike  positive,"  asked  Mr.  Silkland,  "  that 
the  complainant  and  the  accused  here,  were  the  parties 
which  you  married  on  that  day  ?" 

"  I  am,  if  I  can  believe  my  senses,"  replied  the  wit- 
ness. 

A  number  of  other  persons  who  were  present  at  the 
marriage,  upon  which  was  grounded  the  charge  against 
Johnson,  were  called  and  sworn  as  witnesses  on  the 
part  of  the  prosecution,  and  severally  testified  to  the 
marriage,  and  the  identity  of  the  accused,  in  the  most 
positive  manner;  and  thereupon  Counsellor  Lashem 
rested  the  cause  on  the  part  of  the  prosecution. 

This  state  of  the  cause  having  brought  a  late  hour  in 
the  afternoon,  the  court  adjourned  the  proceedings  until 
the  next  day. 

Upon  the  testimony  already  deposed,  every  juryman 


1^1 


ill' I 


and  the 
so  mar- 
aid  Mr. 
age  you 
f  July  f 
recollect 
lor  have 
)  believe 

d,  "  that 
3  parties 

the  wit- 
It  at  the 
)  against 
on  the 
1  to  the 
the  most 
Lashem 

)  hour  in 
ngs  until 

juryman 


' 


THE  MISTAKEN  BRIDE. 


169 


had  made  up  his  mind,  and  when  they  removed  from 
their  seats,  they  looked  upon  Johnson  as  a  guilty  man  ; 
the  court  deemed  his  conviction  unquestionable ;  and 
among  the  spectators,  who  were  many,  there  were  but 
few  who  believed  him  innocent. 

The  Luminary  appeared  the  next  morning,  with  a 
long  article  in  reference  to  the  trial,  in  which  it  was 
stated  "  that  the  testimony  given  against  tho  accused 
on  the  day  previous  had  been  so  creditable  in  its  cha- 
racter, and  conclusive  in  its  effect,  that  theru  was  left 
not  a  single  doubt  of  his  guilt — that  for  him  to  excul- 
pate himself  of  the  charge  was  a  matter  of  impossibility 
— that  not  even  the  fog  which  might  be  raised  by  his 
learned  counsel  could  possibly  so  mistify  the  clear  facts 
which  were  established  against  him,  as  to  afford  a  hope 
of  escape  ;  and  if  convicted,"  said  the  Luminary, 
"  as  he  unquestionably  will  be,  the  court  ought  to  inflict 
upon  him  the  severest  penalty  of  the  law — as  he  is,  no 
doubt,  a  hardened  and  practised  offender ;  for  he  has  ap- 
peared, during  the  proceedings,  an  unmoved,  unfeeling, 
heartless  villain — for  whom  there  is  only  one  regret, 
and  that  is,  that  the  law  does  not  provide  for  him  a  more 
severe  punishment ;"  and  the  editor  promised  the  public 
to  issue  an  extra  Luminary,  containing  a  full  and  per- 
fect report  of  the  proceedings,  so  soon  as  the  trial  should 

be  closed. 

P 


;    f 


i\ 


ft  ^  1 


170 


THE  MISTAKL 


IIOJEj 


ry\ 


■\lTi: 


Am 


V.  r 


^:i'! 


i-H:^ 


■*i 


if 


The  Pm>fe  was,  also,  out,  and  prorvounced  Johnsoil 
"  guilty  !  guilty  ! !  guilty  ! ! !"  Its  editor  was  suffused 
with  tears  for  the  young  lady  who  had  been  made  a 
victim,  as  he  alleged,  of  Johnson's  villany ;  and  afford* 
ed  the  readers  of  his  paper  a  long  dissertation  on  the 
enormity  of  the  offence.  It  seemed  that  the  editors  of  the 
Luminary  and  the  Pink  had  no  idea  of  the  impropriety 
of  a  course  which  was  calculated  to  deprive  the  accused 
of  an  impartial  determination  of  his  case,  by  producing 
a  bias  of  the  public  mind.  It  appeared  that  their  only 
bent  was  to  grease  the  wheels  of  the  law,  regardless 
of  justice,  and  to  make  their  papers  sell,  though  they 
might  send  an  innocent  man  to  the  state  prison. 

With  the  public,  there  had  become  an  excitement, 
and  Johnson's  case  was  made  almost  the  sole  topic  of 
conversation ;  and  for  twenty-four  hours  never  was  a 
poor  fellow  more  cut  and  carved.  The  members  of  the 
Magdalen  society,  also,  took  the  matter  into  considera- 
tion, and  having  investigated  it  to  their  own  satisfaction, 
pronounced  him  one  of  the  worst  of  seducers  ;  nor  did 
they  stop  there,  but  got  up  a  memorial  to  the  legislature, 
praying  for  a  law  to  punish  adultery  as  a  criminal  of- 
fence. This  move,  however,  had  no  other  effect  than  to 
influence,  for  the  moment,  the  already  excited  public 
mind.  For  the  legislators  were  entirely  out  of  the  reach 
of  the  excitement  and  its  influence,  and  they  had  seen 


THE  MISTAKEN  BRIDE. 


171 


the  women  of  Greece,  without  laws  to  preserve  them, 
shining  pure  and  chaste  as  the  marble  from  their  moun- 
tains ;  while  in  Spain,  with  laws  providing  the  penalties 
of  the  felon  for  the  adulterer,  chastity  has  not  even  a 
name  among  the  women  of  the  country ;  and  therefore 
they  could  not  believe  the  subject  a  proper  one  for  le- 
gislation, and  so,  leaving  the  matter  to  be  regulated  by 
the  good  sense  of  the  people,  they  laid  the  memorial  on 
the  table,  where  I  believe  it  sleeps  to  thib  day. 


1, 


CHAPTER    XII. THE    DENOUEMENT, 

Bless  me  !  your  beard  is  of  amazing  growth ! 
And  how  came  you  to  keep  away  so  long  1 
Are  you  not  sensible  'twas  very  wrong  1 

Are  you  now  really,  truly ,  now  a  Turk  1 

With  any  other  woman  did  you  wivel — Byron. 

On  the  second  day  of  the  trial,  the  court  opened 
with  a  full  house,  if  I  may  use  the  language  applicable 
to  the  theatre.  At  in  early  hour,  the  Recorder  and 
Aldermen  were  on  ;he  bench,  the  jurors  took  their 
seats  in  their  box,  and  the  lawyers  were  in  their  places 
and  ready  to  go  on  with  the  proceedings.  The  list  of 
witnesses  for  the  prosecution  being  called.  Aunt  Simons 
and  her  daughter  appeared,  and  assumed  the  station, 
near  the  bench,  they  had  occupied  the  day  previous, 


m:. 


i<;if 


ll!|tt 


172 


THE  MISTAKEN  BRIDE. 


i 


n    ,K  •  at' 


•,i  ,. 


ii 


As  Mr.  Silkland  rose  to  state  the  defence,  one  of  the 
jurors  remarked  to  his  fellow  "  that  he  did  not  conceive 
what  the  gentleman  could  find  to  say  in  behalf  of  his 
client." 

The  Recorder  inquired  if  he  intended  to  occupy 
the  attention  of  the  court  and  jury  with  a  long  speech  ? 
"  It  seems,"  said  the  Recorder,  "  the  case  hardly  war- 
rants it." 

"  Silkland  has  but  an  up-hill  business,"  said  a  brother 
lawyer. 

"  Yes, '  replied  a  physician,  who  had  smuggled  him- 
self into  the  bar,  "  his  arguments  must  be  like  physic 
for  a  dead  man." 

Mr.  Silkland  began  his  address ;  but  while  he  was 
commenting  upon  the  testimony  which  had  been  ad- 
duced on  the  part  of  the  prosecution,  the  Recorder  was 
consulting  with  the  Aldermen  in  relation  to  the  amount 
of  pimishment  to  be  inflicted  upon  his  client ;  nor  did 
any  one  appear  to  heed  his  remarks,  until  he  said — 
"  But,  notwithstanding  this  apparently  unmoveable  mass 
of  testimony  deposed  against  my  client,  and  the  respec- 
tability of  the  witnesses  by  which  it  has  been  given, 
gentlemen  of  the  jury,  I  shall  nevertheless  now  be  able 
to  prove  to  you  by  witnesses  equally  respectable,  and 
who  possess  known  characters  for  truth  and  veracity, 
that  on  the  day  on  which  it  has  been  alleged  my  client 


I    I 


:i'-V 


THE  MISTAKEN  BRIDE. 


173 


was  married  to  this  woman,  within  this  city,  that  he 
was  then  abseat  from  the  city,  having  left  the  day  pre- 
vious, and  that  he  did  not  return  until  the  day  after  this 
marriage  complained  of  is  alleged  to  have  taken  place  ; 
I  and,  however  strange  it  may  appear,  I  shall  be  able  to 
establish  what  I  state  to  you,  gentlemen,  by  such  num- 
bers of  witnesses  as  will  satisfy  you,  as  well  as  all  who 
witness  these  proceedings,  that  my  client  is  not  guilty 
of  the  offence  with  which  he  has  been  charged." 

The  attention  of  the  court  and  jury  having  been  ob- 
tained by  Mr.  Silkiand,  and  having  completed  the  state- 
ment of  tho  defence,  he  then  commenced  calling  wit- 
nesses on  the  part  of  his  client.     The  first  whom  he 
brought  on  to  the  stand  was  a  genteel-looking  young 
man,  who  had  been  a   clerk  for   the    accused ;  who 
being  sworn,  testified,  "  that,  on  the  third  day  of  July, 
Johnson  had  left  the  city  in  company  with  a  party  of 
ladies  and  gentlemen  for  an  excursion  in  the  country, 
the  carriages  for  which  he  had  furnished — that  he  was 
absent  from  the  city  the  whole  of  the  fourth  of  July,  and 
did  not  return  until  late  on  the  fifth."     The  witness  also 
produced  a  book  which  he  testified  *'  was  an  account- 
book,  or  book  of  common  entry,  kept  by  Johnson,  in 
which  there  appeared  charges  against  a  number  of 
gentlemen  for  the  hire  of  carriages  and  horses  on  those 


r 

i^1 


I;..     A 

■If'. 


'I,  < 


2 


nv^ 


<i 


174 


THE  MISTAKEN  BRIDE. 


m 


■i; ! 


£i'- 


fi:i 


^ 


days — and  that  the  charges  were  in  the  witness's  own 
hand-writing." 

Another  person  was  then  called  and  sworn  as  a  wit- 
ness on  the  part  of  the  accused,  and  testified,  "  that  he 
was  one  of  a  party  on  a  country  excursion  during  the 
third,  fourth,  and  fifth  days  of  July,  for  which  excursion 
Johnson,  the  accused,  had  furnished  the  carriages,  and 
had  accompanied  the  party  during  the  whole  excursion 
— that  they  had  left  New- York  early  on  the  morning  of 

the  third — that  on  the  jiburth  they  had  remained  at , 

(a  village  situated  about  twenty  miles  from  New- York,) 
where  the  accused  had  remained  with  them — that  he 
had  there  seen  him  every  hour  during  the  whole  day — 
that  the  accused  returned  to  the  city  with  them  on  the 
fifth — and  that,  therefore,  he  could  not  possibly  have 
been  in  the  city  on  the  fourth."  This  witness  was  dis- 
missed, and  Mr.  Silkland  then  called  upon  the  stand, 
successively,  some  four  or  five  other  gentlemen,  who 
were  of  the  party  mentioned,  and  all  of  whom  testified 
in  the  most  positive  manner,  as  to  the  absence  of  the 
accused  from  the  city  of  New- York  on  the  fourth  of 
July.  These  witnesses  called  in  behalf  of  Johnson 
were  men  of  character,  whose  veracity  could  not  be 
doubted ;  and  before  Mr.  Silkland  had  rested  the  cause 
of  the  accused,  the  jurors  had  began  to  pay  some  atten- 


r- 


HI  'H 

■  I 


is  s  own 

,»  a  wit- 
*  that  he 
ring  the 
Kcursion 
ges,  and 
xcursion 
)rning  of 

at , 

vr-York,) 
-that  he 
e  day — 
n  on  the 
3iy  have 
was  dis- 
stand, 
en,  who 

testified 
e  of  the 
burth  ci 

Johnson 
not  be 
lie  cause 
He  iitten- 


.:% 


THE  MISTAKEN  BRIDE. 


175 


tion  to  what  was  said,  and  were  then  listening  to  his 
questions,  and  the  answers  of  the  witnesses.  The 
Recorder  and  the  Aldermen  began  to  think  that  they 
had  better  wait  until  the  accused  was  found  guilty  be- 
fore they  passed  sentence  upon  him ;  and  the  gentle- 
men spectators,  soap-locks,  and  loafers,  who  thronged 
the  hall,  and  who  had  become  more  and  more  numerous 
as  the  trial  acquired  interest,  until  the  court-room  pre- 
sented such  a  mass  of  human  flesh  jammed  together,  as 
it  has  never  since  exhibited,  except  it  might  have  been 
so  on  the  trial  of  young  Robinson  for  the  murder  of 
Hellen  Jev.  ett,  had  then  began  to  make  up  their  minds 
that  Johnson  was  not  so  guilty  as  they  had  supposed. 

The  Recorder,  who  had  been  taking  the  minutes  of 
the  testimony,  now  remarked,  "  that  the  trial  presented 
some  very  strange  circumstances.  Respectable  wit- 
nesses had,  in  effect,  directly  contradicted  others 
equally  respectable.  There  is  something,"  continued 
the  Recorder,  "  about  the  transaction  not  easily  com- 
prehended." Then  turning  to  Desta,  who  was  still 
sitting  near  the  witnesses'  stand,  by  the  side  of  her 
mother,  he  said,  '^  madam,  are  you  not  possibly  mis- 
taken as  to  the  identity  of  this  man  to  whom  you  sup- 
pose yourself  to  have  been  married  ?" 

"  I  think  not,"  answered  Desta. 

Aunt  Simons,  who  sat  near  hex  daughter,  observing 


•  '  i, 


i 


i. 


■'<■'  ,.i'    »: 


P      t 


»  fti'^ 


^S;      P 


176 


THE  MISTAKEN   BRIDE, 


what  was  going  on,  and  panting  for  revenge,  now  began 
to  be  impressed  with  a  belief  that  Johnson,  from  whose 
hands  she  believed  Desta  had  received  great  injury  and 
wrong,  was  going  to  escape  the  fangs  of  the  law,  arose 
from  her  seat,  came  forward,  and  informed  Counsellor 
Lashem  "  that  all  their  witnesses  had  not  been  ex- 
amined— that  there  were  others  present  who  could 
testify  to  the  identity  of  the  accused,"  and  desired  to 
be  sworn  herself;  and  it  Avas  then  proposed  by  Coun- 
sellor Lashem  to  call  and  examine  other  witnesses  on 
the  part  of  the  prosecution.  The  Recorder  expressed 
it  as  the  opinion  of  the  court,  that  the  prosecution  had 
gone  quite  far  enough,  they  being  informed  that  the  ac- 
cused could  sustain  the  alibi  he  had  proven  by  many 
more  respectable  witnesses  than  those  already  intro- 
duced ;  but,  nevertheless,  it  was  consented  that  Aunt 
Simons  might  be  placed  upon  the  stand. 

During  the  proceedings  of  the  trial,  the  two  counsels 
had  been  permitted  to  cut  and  carve  the  matters  between 
themselves,  without  much  interference  on  the  part  of 
the  court,  and  the  jurors  of  course,  had  said  nothing ; 
and  Counsellor  Lashem  in  the  opinion  of  Aunt  Simons, 
was  the  only  person  present  entitled  to  any  considera- 
tion. So,  when  she  took  the  stand,  after  being  sworn, 
she  turned  her  face  directly  to  him,  and  waiting  for  no 
questions  to  be  put,  immediately  began  a  tirade  of  censure 


i«- 


^!i' 


THE  MISTAKEN  BRIDE. 


177 


w  began 
m  whose 
ijury  and 
iw,  arose 
ounsellor 
been  ex- 
ho   could 
Jesired  to 
by  Coim- 
nesses  on 
expressed 
lution  had 
at  the  ac- 
1  by  many 
jady  intro- 
that  Aunt 

0  counsels 
rs  between 
he  part  of 
d  nothmg ; 
nt  Simons, 

considera- 
dng  sworn, 
iting  for  no 

of  censure 


against  Johnson.  The  words  fell  from  her  lips  like  the 
sands  of  an  hour-glass,  and  as  disconnected  ;  while  she 
kept  her  head  moving  up  and  down  not  unlike  the  bob- 
bing motion  of  a  trip-hammer,  to  use  a  hoiiidly  simile. 
She  said  "  she  knew  him  well  enough — his  name  was 
Benjamin  Johnson — the  good  for  nothing  villain — to 
leave  a  wife  in  the  city — and  come  up  into  the  country 
to  deceive  her  (daughter — her  Desta — whom  che  had 
brought  up  with  so  much  care — and  to  disgrace  the  fa- 
mily of  a  poor  lone  widow — when  he  ought  to  have  been 
at  home— taking  care  of  his  wife  and  children — and 
now  she  thought  it  most  unjust  to  allow  him  to  bring  up 
a  pack  of  fellows — villains  like  himself — to  swear  it  was 
not  him  :"  and  so  she  went  on,  while  neither  the  Re- 
corder, Aldermen,  jurors,  nor  any  one  else  could  compre- 
hend five  words  in  a  hundred  she  uttered.  Whei..  she 
ceased,  for  want  of  breath,  as  nothing  else  could  stop  her, 
the  Recorder  told  her  to  take  off  her  bonnet,  so  that  the 
jury  and  himself  could  hear  what  she  said.  She  not  heed- 
ing !.is  'lirection,  the  Recorder  again  spoke  to  her,  and 
said,  in  a  more  audible  voice,  "  I  say,  old  woman,  take  off 
your  bonnet."  On  hearing  this  command,  Aunt  Sim*  ' 
turned  her  face  round  directly  to  the  bench,  and  replied, 
"  I  wont,  sir !" — and  the  Hall  shook  with  laughter. 
Every  one  present  had  been  charged  with  merriment 
from  the  moment  Aunt  Simons  took  the  witnesses'  stand. 


I 


178 


THE  MISTAKEN  BRIDE. 


m  i 


I 


I'lj 


Li 


1:1:' 


i  fi"' 


:ii '  51 


and  with  her  bhmt  and  saucy  answer  to  the  Recorder, 
she  had  applied  the  match. 

"Highty !  tighty !"  said  his  honour,  as  soon  as  he  could 
be  heard,  "  old  woman,  perhaps  you  had  better  come  and 
take  a  seat  with  us  here  upon  the  bench." 

"  I  might,  sir,"  retorted  Aunt  Simons,  at  the  same 
time  turning  her  face  ajjain  to  the  bench — "  if  there  were 
not  old  women  enough  there  now  !"  and  again  the  Hall 
was  shaken  by  the  most  uproarous  laughter,  which  all  the 
hammering  of  the  Recorder,  and  thumping  of  the  police 
officers  could  not  still  for  some  minutes. 

At  the  moment  the  confusion  subsided,  a  number  of 
police  officers  appeared  at  the  entrance  of  the  court- 
room, bringing  in  several  prisoners  who  had  been 
convicted  at  a  previous  term,  but  whose  cases  had 
been  reserved  for  advisement ;  and  they  were  then 
being  brought  up  to  receive  the  sentence  of  tho  court. 
As  the  people  gave  w^ay  to  allow  them  to  pass  to  the 
prisoner's  box,  the  attention  of  Aunt  Simons  was  attract- 
ed by  the  move,  and  her  head  turned  toward  the  door. 
In  an  instant  she  sprang  from  her  seat,  crying  out  "Desta! 
Desta  !  Desta  !  that's  not  Johnson — there  he  is — that's 
Benjamin,  there  ;"  pointing  to  one  of  the  prisoners  who 
was  being  escorted  into  court ;  and  she  irnmediatly 
pressed  forward  to  meet  him. 

The  prisoner  upon  discovering  Aunt  Simons,  accost* 


'VI 


THE  MISTAKEN   BRIDE. 


ito 


a  I 


1 1  II 


3corder, 

le  could 
ome  and 

Le  same 
3re  were 
the  Hall 
ch  all  the 
tie  police 

lUmber  of 
ihe  court- 
lad   been 
ases  had 
rere  then 
ho   court, 
iss  to  the 
as  attract- 
the  door. 
af'Desta! 
is — that's 
loners  who 
nmediatly 

is,  accost* 


fed  her  in  a  half  child-like  manner,  with  "how  d'ye  do 
mother  ?"  On  hearing  the  expression,  in  spite  of  the 
remonstrances  of  the  police  officers,  Aunt  Simons 
"  fell  on  his  neck,  and  wept  on  his  neck  a  good  while'* 
— as  did  Joseph  upon  the  neck  of  his  father  Israel  i 
And  poor  Desta^  amid  the  shouts  of  laughter  which 
pealed  through  the  hall,  was  compelled  to  come  forward 
and  recognize  her  husband  in  the  prisoner  just  brought 
in,  who  was  altogether  ignorant  of  what  had  been  going 
on  in  court — and  supposed  his  wife  and  friends  were 
there  for  the  purpose  of  an  interview  with  him. 

The  scene  which  was  then  being  enacted,  defies  the 

art  of  pen  to  describe,  nor  hath  language  force  to  relate 

it.     No  person  a  stranger  to  the  proceedings,  and  who 

had  come  in  at  the  moment,  would  have  mistrusted  that 

he  was  in  the  presence  of  a  court  of  criminal  jurispru* 

dence.     While  xVunt   Simons  and  Desta  were  hanging 

upon  their  newly  discovered  Mr.  Johnson,  the  peals  of 

laughter,  which  burst  from  the  audience,  rent  the   air^ 

and  seemed  to   shake   the  very  foundations  of  the  old 

City-Hall.     Never  did  the  Park  Theatre,  even  in  the 

time  of  the  happiest  comic  actor  that  ever  trod  its  boards, 

experience   such  shouts  of  merriment ;  and  many  an 

individual  left  the  court-room  that  dav  with  a  kink  in 

his  side. 

As  soon  as  the  officers  of  the  court  were  abk  to  pro- 


H 


Is 


jiii'  f 


180 


THE  MISTAKEN  BRIDE. 


*  ;'V, 


\-.  'I 


1.;;'  'i  ' 


'il     Ml' 


1 .     4 


!,.-**' 


duce  anything  like  order  in  the  room,  a  full  explana- 
tion took  place  ;  when  it  appeared  that  Benjamin  John- 
son, the  real  husband  of  Desta,  had  come  down  to  New- 
York,  at  the  time  and  in  the  manner  as  the  reader  has 
been  advised,  and  found  his  friend  who  had  written  to 
him,  and  at  whose  request  he  came  to  the  city.  This 
friend  of  Johnson  was  a  young  man  from  the  western 
country,  where  Johnson  had  previously  resided.  He 
proposed  to  engage  in  a  fraudulent  banking  concern — or, 
as  it  was  termed,  "  to  speculate  upon  a  quantity  of  paper 
currency" — which  the  reader  will  understand  was  the 
issuing  of  bills  purporting  to  be  the  notes  of  a  bank  lo- 
cated in  a  village,  situated  somewhere  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  Lake  Erie,  when  in  fact  neither  bank,  place 
of  location,  nor  the  persons  whose  names  appeared  upon 
the  bills  as  president  and  cashier,  ever  had  any  existence 
— save  that  given  them  upon  the  face  of  the  notes. 

The  execution  of  the  plates,  and  the  printing  of  the 
bills  for  such  imaginary  banking  institution,  Johnson's 
friend  desired  him  to  procure,  as  he  himself  did  not  wish 
to  be  known  as  concerned  with  it,  in  New- York.  Upon 
certain  inducements  being  offered,  Johnson  undertook 
the  business  ;  and  after  the  engraving  of  the  plates  had 
been  completed,  and  while  the  bills  were  being  struck 
oiT,  the  intended  fraud  came  to  the  knowledge  of  the 
police  of  the  city  of  New-York,  and  the  plates  and  bills 


^v 


jxplana- 
,n  John- 
to  New- 
ider  has 
ritten  to 
r.    This 
western 
led.     He 
;em — or, 
'  of  paper 
was  the 
L  bank  lo- 
le  neigh- 
mk,  place 
ared  upon 
existence 

lOtes. 
ng  of  the 
Johnson's 
d  not  wish 
•k.    Upon 
undertook 
)lates  had 
ing  struck 
Ige  of  the 
s  and  bills 


THE  MISTAKEN  BRIDE. 


181 


were  seized,  Johnson  arrested,  and  an  indictment,  trial, 
and  conviction  followed  in  quick  succession. 

Upon  Johnson's  trial,  however,  there  had  been  a 
question  of  law  raised  by  his  counsel,  and  the  Recorder 
had  suspended  judgment  that  the  opinion  of  the  Supreme 
Court  might  be  taken  upon  the  point ;  and  Johnson 
having  full  confidence  that  his  objection  would  be  sus- 
tained by  the  higher  tribunal,  had  in  the  meantime  re- 
frained from  making  any  communication  of  his  situation 
to  his  wife  and  friends. 

The  newspapers  had  contained  an  account  of  his 
arrest  and  trial ;  but  the  people  of  the  village  where 
his  wife  resided,  had  set  him  down,  from  the  commence^ 
ment  of  his  absence,  as  one  of  the  smokes  from  New- 
York,  and  had  never  thought  of  looking  for  a  notice  of 
Johnson  in  the  daily  police  reports  ;  so  that  if  they  had 
read  the  newspapers,  the  account  was  passed  unnoticed, 
x\s  for  Aunt  Simons,  she  had  always  said,  "  she  did  not 
see  what  good  it  did  to  take  a  newspaper" — and  she 
had  never  been  a  subscriber  to  a  newspaper  in  her  life. 
The  truth  of  the  matter  was,  she  was  too  stingy  to  pay 
for  a  paper — and  so  it  happened  that  she  had  remained 
ignorant  of  her  son-in-law's  condition. 

The  other  Benjamin  Johnson,  the  keeper  of  the  livery 
stable,  was  of  course  innocent  of  the  crime  of  which  he 
was  accused  ;  and  under  the  direction  of  the  court  he  wa^ 

Q 


K. 

\'\\ 


ii 


?;■  :'*■ 


IS     »     1 


182 


THE  MISTAKEN  BRIDE. 


immediately  acquitted  by  the  jury.  Between  the  two 
Johnsons  it  was  discovered  there  was  some  trifling 
similarity  of  person,  as  is  often  to  be  found,  but  not  such 
a  resemblance  as  ever  to  have  been  noticed,  had  not 
both  borne  the  name  of  "  Benjamin  Johnson" — and  a 
young  bride  been  minus  of  a  husband. 

Johnson,  the  convicted  felon,  had  contracted  the  mar- 
riage with  Desta  in  perfect  good  faith  ;  and  to  such  con- 
nexion no  previous  marriage  existed  as  an  impediment. 
But,  alas,  for  him — he  was  as  fast  as  the  meshes 
of  the  law  could  hold  him.  The  Supreme  Court  had 
decided  against  his  motion  for  a  new  trial,  and  he  was 
then  to  receive  the  sentence  which  the  law  accorded, 
and  which  sent  him  to  the  state  prison  for  a  term  of 
years ;  and  Desta  and  Aunt  Simons  returned  to  their 
home,  chagrined  at  their  mistake,  and  sorrowing  and 
grieving  for  the  fate  of  Johnson,  whom  they  had  on  that 
very  day  intended  to  have  sent  to  the  same  prison  to 
which  he  was  actually  consigned.  The  story  of  Desta's 
mistake  in  attempting  to  identify  a  stranger  as  her  hus- 
band, was  long  remembered  by  the  people  of  her  native 
place ;  and  its  relation,  in  after  times,  awoke  many  a 
loud  laugh  at  the  village  tavern. 

Aunt  Simons,  about  two  years  after  her  appearance 
in  New-York  with  Desta,  departed  from  this  life  for  a 
better  one ;  and  the  family  estate  thereby  became  the 


the  two 
trifling 
lot  such 
[lad  not 
—and  a 

he  mar- 
ich  con- 
jdiment. 
meshes 
ourt  had 
he  was 
ceorded, 
,  term  of 
,  to  their 
ing  and 
d  on  that 
prison  to 
■  Desta's 
her  hus- 
er  native 
many  a 

pearance 
life  for  a 
came  the 


THE  MISTAKEN  BRIDE. 


183 


sole  property  of  Desta,  (whom  wc  should  now  call  Mrs. 
Johnson,)  subject  only  to  the  rights  of  her  husband,  who 
was  then  still  remaining  in  the  state  prison.  Imme- 
diately after  the  decease  of  her  mother,  Mrs.  Johnson, 
with  the  assistance  of  some  of  her  friends,  succeeding  in 
obtaining  a  pardon  from  the  governor  for  her  husband, 
conditioned  for  his  immediate  removal  from  the  state. 
The  "  Simons  p^  ,"  as  it  was  called,  was  then  dis- 
posed of,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Johnson  emigrated  to  one 
of  the  western  states,  where,  it  is  said,  Johnson  has 
since  become  a  wealthy  and  influential  merchant ;  and 
while  the  result  of  the  lives  of  all  the  other  characters 
I  have  brought  forward  have  been  lost  to  the  pages  of 
history,  that  of  tJiis  Johnson  and  his  wife  is  yet  retained 
— and  Mrs.  Johnson  is  still  remembered  in  her  native 
village  as  The  Mistaken  Bride. 


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LINES, 


Addressed  to  a  f^oor  swain,  who^  while  suffering 
ifl  the  indescribable  condition  of  an  unrequited  lover^ 
wrote  a  whole  dozen  stanzas  to  his  lady  love,  whom  he 
charged  with  having  given  him  what  the  country  girls 
call  the  mitten!  In  his  bill  of  complaint  he  had  fairly 
stated  his  case,  which  was  truly  a  hard  one,  and  era- 
braced  good  grounds  for  reliefs — but,  then,  his  prayer, 
tvhich  was  that  "  his  incontinent  fair  one  should  suffer 
unrequited  love  in  return,"  was  a  matter  altogether  irre* 
levant,  and  could  not  be  entertained  hy  the  court  of  Cupid. 
Had  the  lady  read  his  attempt  at  poesy,  I  think  she 
would  have  said,  in  the  words  of  the  player,  "  go,  poor 
devil,  and  hang  thyself!'*  But  I  believe  my  advice  is 
more  benignant. 

Oh,  sorrow  not  if  love's  unkind, 
For  maids  will  all  capricious  be  : 

A  coquette's  flirting  never  mind. 
For  you  may  ever  know  that  she— -« 

Will  love  another. 


LINES  ADDRESSED  TO  A  POOR  SWAIN. 


185 


suffering 
ed  lover, 
(^hom  be 
itry  girls 
ad  fairly 
ind  era- 
'  prayer, 
d  suffer 
iier  irre* 
f  Cupid. 
ink  she 
^o,  poor 
Ivice  is 


Though  fascinating  accents  fell 
Fast  from  her  lips  of  roseate  hue, 

Grieve  not,  because  youVe  heard  her  tell 
That  ^^  she  could  never  fancy  you — 

But  loved  another. ^^ 

Though  her  eyes,  with  radiance  bright, 
And  warm  with  love,  did  beam  on  thee  : 

Scorn  to  lament,  poor  luckless  wight. 
That  she  could  so  bewitching  be — 

And  love  another. 

Thy  love  was  sincere,  thou  hast  said. 
And  in  return — asked  but  her  hand  : 

A  fair  proposal  to  the  niaid ! 

But  sure,  that  were  a  great  demand — 

She  loved  another. 

Her  love  was  all  thy  hope  of  bliss. 

And  thou  didst  place  thy  heav'n  in  her  : 

Then,  let  me,  friend,  advise  you  this. 
That  if  she's  false,  thy  heav'n  transfer — 

And  love  another. 

Why  call  ye  on  her  head  a  curse— 
Of  Cupid's  realm,  'gainst  all  the  laws — 

And  from  her  bosom  peace  disperse. 

With  unrequited  love,  because — 

She  loved  another  ? 
Q3 


\\ 


.1.    *! 


I.  !! 


THE   FALSE    MAIDEN. 


I 


A   LOVERS    ODE. 

'Twas  when  the  bhize, 

And  golden  rays, 
Of  the  bright  orb — far  in  the  West, 

Just  tinged  the  skies, 

With  scarlet  dies, 
We  met — and  then  with  hope  were  blest. 

In  twilight  hour, 

The  budding  flower. 
Gave  fragrance  to  the  evening  air ; 

We  walked  the  grove. 

And  talked  of  love, 
And  she,  I  thought,  as  heav'n,  was  fair. 

Her  charming  grace- 
Angelic  face. 

Beaming  love  with  radiance  bright ; 
Her  sylph-like  form— 
Her  bosom  warm,  * 

Impressed  my  heart  with  deep  delight. 


THE  FALSE  MAIDEN. 

Then  oaths  were  said, 
And  vows  were  made, 

And  sealed  upon  her  ruby  lip  : 
To  snatch  one  kiss, 
'Twere  greater  bliss, 

Than  taste  the  nectar  gods  do  sip. 

Who'd  then  believe, 

She  would  deceive — 
That  she  could  ever  heartless  be  ? 

But  light  as  air, 

(The  wretch— though  fair,) 
Was  ail  her  love  professed  for  me. 


187 


} 


1 1 


'     IM  it    V 


'I  !■ 

•'  I,  J 


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■  it 


,1   » 


m 
m 


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'     t 


THE   LAWYER'S   APOLOGY. 


I     r 


1', 


The  investment  of  other  persons,  than  such  as  have 
been  bred  to  the  profession  of  the  law,  with  the  office 
of  Judge,  I  believe,  is  seldom,  if  ever,  attended  with  any 
very  good  results,  although  such  preferments  are  com- 
mon in  most  of  the  states  of  the  Union. 

The  appointment  of  farmers  and  mechanics  to  pre- 
side in  courts  of  law,  there  to  determine  legal  questions 
upon  the  arguments  of  counsel,  the  points  of  which,  (as 
it  would  occur  in  most  cases,)  they  had  not  heard  or 
thought  of,  until  brought  to  their  mind  by  the  arguments 
adduced  at  the  moment  they  are  called  upon  to  decide  I 
— or,  to  give  instructions  to  jurors,  who  are  themselves 
as  capable,  (and  oftentimes  much  more  so,)  of  arriving  at 
correct  conclusions,  as  the  judges  of  such  kind,  it  would 
seem,  could  hardly  be  regarded  by  people  of  observing 
and  reflective  minds  otherwise  than  as  an  evil  and 
ridiculous  judiciary  arrangement. 

It  has  been  supposed  the  duty  of  the  judges  composing 
the  bench  of  a  court,  to  give  a  character  to  the  bar — but 


4 


(• « 
i 


Y. 


1  as  have 
the  office 
.  with  any 
are  com- 
es to  pre- 
questions 
vhich,  (as 

heard  or 
arguments 
,  to  decide 
hemselves 
arriving  at 
1,  it  would 

observing 
L  evil  and 

composing 
e  bar— but 


The  LAWYER'S  APOLOGY. 


189 


Under  the  present  judiciary  arrangement  of  our  country, 
it  would  seem  to  be  expected  that  the  members  of  the 
bar  will  give  a  character  to  the  bench ;  and  this  some- 
times happens,  as  my  story  tells. 

At  a  time  still  within  the  remembrance  of  the  young", 
there  were  of  the  judges  of  the  Court  of  Common  Pleas 

of  the  county  of  N ,  in  the  state  of  New-York,  of 

which  B was  then  the  county  town,  a  Farmer,  a 

Shoemaker  J  and  a  Tavern-keeper.  These  men^  though 
they  had  for  many  years  held  the  high  honours  and  sta- 
tions of  judges  of  the  county  courts,  had  in  no  manner 
gained  a  reputation  either  for  learning  or  clearness 
of  discernment — or  for  the  correctness  of  their  decisions 
of  legal  questions.  They  were,  all  three  of  them,  never- 
theless, "  very  good  men,"  as  they  were  called,  "  who 
always  meant  to  do  right."  But  he  who  knew  the 
judges,  and  could  see  through  them,  readily  perceived 
that  though  the  Farmer  might  understand  and  be  capable 
of  deciding  the  proper  sort  of  grain  or  produce  to  be  cul- 
tivated in  any  one  of  his  fields — the  legal  bearing  of  a 
question  was  never  within  his  ken  ;  and  of  the  relevancy 
or  irrelevancy  of  a  question  to  a  matter  at  issue  before 
him  he  had  no  faculty  to  determine  :  that  notwithstand- 
ing the  Shoemaker  could  do  good  work  on  the  seat,  he 
was  of  no  use  on  the  bench :  and  that  although  the  Tavern- 
keeper  was  a  good  judge  of  ru9n  and  brandy,  ho  was  no 


hm  <l 


ii'i 


t 


u 


''  (it 


ft 


'v; 


ill, I 


190 


THE  lawyer's  apology. 


«; 


''I 


judge  of  law.  On  the  bench  the  Farmer  had  the  pre- 
cedence, being  first  judge.  He  was  by  nature  and  habit 
conceited  and  sedate ;  and  as  inflexible  in  his  character 
as  a  judge,  as  ignorance  could  well  make  him.  His 
associates,  the  Shoemaker  and  Tavern-keeper,  were  in 
some  respects  of  a  very  different  character.  They  par- 
ticularly liked  a  frolic — and  they  never  thought  of  the 
term-time,  or  court-week,  but  as  a  time  for  jollification  : 
and  as  on  the  occasion  of  the  sittings  of  the  courts  they 
were  compelled  to  remain  by  the  side  of  the  Farmer, 
during  the  day,  to  listen  to  the  pettifogging  of  the  law- 
yers, they  usually  brought  him  into  their  carousals  by 
night ;  and  to  this  they  compelled  him  by  a  kind  of 
half  persuasion  and  half  coercion — for  he  was  not  na- 
turally inclined  that  way.  Such  is  a  sketch  of  the  cha- 
racter of  the  judges  who,  for  a  time,  presided  in  the  Court 

of  Common  Pleas  of  the  county  of  N .     But  more 

of  this  anon. 

In  the  winter  of  18 — ,  on  a  cold  evening,  I  arrived  at 
Detroit,  and  put  up  at  a  hotel.  The  legislature  of  the 
state  of  Michigan  was  then  in  session,  which  occasion- 
ed the  public  houses  to  be  well  filled  with  company, 
notwithstanding  the  season  for  travelling  had  gone  by. 
I  was  informed  by  mine  host  that  his  house  was  then  so 
crowded  with  boarders  and  company  that  he  had  neither 
room  nor  bed  which  he  could  surrender  to  my  sole  oc- 


THE  lawyer's  apology. 


191 


the  pre- 
,nd  habit 
[haracter 
m.     His 

were  in 
'hey  par- 
ht  of  the 
fication : 
urts  they 

Farmer, 
the  law- 
msals  by 
at  kind  of 
IS  not  na- 
f  the  cha- 
the  Court 
But  more 

arrived  at 
ire  of  the 
occasion- 
company, 
[  gone  by. 
LS  then  so 
id  neither 
J  sole  oc- 


cupancy  ;  and  that  his  only  manner  of  giving  me  accom- 
modation would  be  by  my  consenting  to  take  a  room 
with  a  number  of  members  of  the  legislature — and  a  bed 
with  a  senator.  This  I  agreed  to,  as  I  concluded  that 
the  gentlemen  with  whom  it  was  proposed  I  should  be 
associated,  could  be  no  very  exceptionable  companions  ; 
and  with  a  light  I  was  shown  to  the  room  of  which  I  was 
to  be  a  tenant  in  common  with  others. 

On  entering,  I  found  my  co-tenants  were  out.  The 
porter  brought  up  my  baggage — and  I,  in  attempting  to 
arrange  it,  accidentally  extinguished  the  taper  which 
had  been  given  me.  Then,  for  the  purpose  of  relighting 
it,  I  went  to  the  stove  in  the  room,  in  which  there  were 
a  few  slumbering  coals — the  remains  of  a  fire  kindled 
in  the  early  part  of  the  day.  As  I  threw  open  the  door 
of  the  stove,  I  found  just  within  it  a  wad  of  paper,  which 
I  undid  for  the  purpose  of  creatifsT  a  blaze  to  relight  my 
taper — which  having  done,  I  disc  ^vered  that  a  part  of 
the  paper  I  still  retained  in  my  hand  was  a  letter  that 
had  been  addressed  to  a  then  well  known  member  of  the 
Michigan  legislature.  Curiosity  induced  me  to  read  it 
— and  it  proving  to  be  a  very  curious  document,  I  pre- 
served it.  It  was  in  the  words  and  figures  following, 
as  the  lawyers  would  say  : 


I J 


'  F. .  r 

m 


193 


THE  lawyer's  apology, 


I 


(< 


i 


:  m 


•,  the  I9th  of  Jan.,  1838. 


''  To  the  Honourable -, 

"  Dear  Sir,— I  now  take  my  pen  in  hand  to  inform 
you  that  I  am  wanting  to  be  appointed  judge  of  this 
District.  We  have  no  Judge  now ;  and  when  I  was 
down  to  Detroit  a  few  days  since  with  a  load  of  hay,  I 
saw  Governor  Mason  in  the  street,  and  he  told  me  there 
would  be  a  judge  appointed  for  this  District  very  soon  ; 
and  when  I  told  him,  as  I  did,  that  I  was  going*  to  peti- 
tion for  the  office,  he  smiled,  and  said,  "  he  hoped  J 
would  ;"  and  so  I  think  I  can  get  the  office — if  I  can  get 
you  to  urgp  my  appointment — and  you  know  I  support^ 
ed  you  at  the  last  election — and  therefore  I  think  you 
ought  to  use  your  influence  to  get  me  appointed  a  judge, 
The  party  owe  me  something,  you  must  know ;  for  I 
plight  have  went  with  the  opposition — and  then,  you 
can't  be  ignorant  of  the  effect  of  my  influence.  All  are 
willing  to  allow  my  judgment  is  as  good  as  any  man's — 
and  I  guess  I  should  make  a  pretty  good  judge,  any  how, 
Then,  sir,  if  you  will  get  me  appointed  a  judge,  (and  I 
do  not  think  the  governor  will  require  any  very  great 
urging  to  be  induced  to  give  it  me,)  I  shall  always 
remain, 

"  Sir,  your  very  much  obliged, 

"  and  obedient  servant, 


« 


5> 


THK  lawyer's  .apology. 


193 


.838. 

inform 
of  this 

I  was 
f  hay,  I 
ic  there 
y  soon ; 
;•  to  peti- 
tioped  I 
[  can  get 
support^ 
link  you 
a  judge, 
r ;  for  I 
hen,  you 

All  are 
man's — 
my  how, 
e,  (and  I 
Ejry  great 
1  always 


It, 


» 


"  P.  S.  If  you  can't  get  me  appointed  a  judge,  got  me 
the  office  of  collector  on  the  Rail-road,  or  some  other 
office  which  will  be  as  good." 

Having  pocketed  this  literary  morceau,  and  arranged 
my  travelling  effects,  I  disposed  of  myself  in  bed,  and 
in  a  brief  moment  was  lost  in  sweet  forgetfulness.  My 
repose,  however,  had  been  but  short,  when  I  was  awa- 
kened by  the  clatter  of  steps,  and  the  sound  of  voices  ; 
and  in  a  moment  three  persons  came  into  my  room. 
Two  of  the  individuals  were  somewhat  uproarous,  giving 
vent  to  very  frequent  bursts  of  laughter,  of  which  the 
third  seemed  to  be  the  provoker ;  and  I  had  had  scarce 
time  allowed  me  to  turn  in  my  bed,  when  I  was  quietly 
seized  by  this  individual,  and  unceremoniously  brought 
out  upon  my  feet — and  the  "  God  bless  you,"  and  the 

"  how  are  you,  my  dear  —  ?"  with  which  I  was 

greeted,  assured  me  I  was  in  the  company  of  a  former 
acquaintance  and  friend.  By  him  I  was  compelled 
again  to  put  on  my  dress,  and  join  himself  and  party,  who 
were  the  occupants  of  the  apartment  in  which  I  had 
been  installed,  in  a  proposed  jollification  ;  and  before  I 
had  completed  the  enrobing  of  my  person,  a  table  in  the 
room  was  loaded  with  choice  liquors  and  substantial  re- 
freshments. In  this  collation  I  was  made  to  become 
a  participant;   and  while   our  cups   were   filled  and 

R 


If 


. « 


ii 


194 


THK  lawyer's  APOI.OQY. 


<. 


»!■   ' 


':,> 


iR* 


emptied,  hilarity  prevailed,  and  many  an  anecdote  and 
story  of  "  former  times"  were  related.  As  a  matter  of 
joke,  I  charged  my  friend  with  a  breach  of  faith  with  his 
correspondents — and  to  substantiate  the  charge,  I  pro- 
duced the  letter  I  had  abstracted  from  the  stove,  which 
bore  his  address. 

"  The  blockhead" — said  he — "  what  could  move  the 
old  fool  to  think  of  filling  the  seat  of  a  judge  ?  That 
letter  exhibits  a  fair  specimen  of  the  man's  intellect 
and  capacity — and  yet  he  has  bored  me  almost  to  death 
to  recommend  him  for  appointment  to  the  office  of  judge, 
a  station  he  is  no  more  capable  of  filling  than  one  of 
the  animals  he  drives  in  his  team." 

"  Don't  be  so  severe,"  said  one  of  the  others  of  the 
company,  who,  as  well  as  my  friend,  had  been  a  mem- 
ber of  the  bar  of  the  state  of  New- York  :  and  then  he 
continued,  "  our  friend  has  a  peculiar  dislike  to  all 
unlegal  judges.  On  one  occasion  his  contempt  for  such 
things  was  very  fully  expressed,  as  I  remember.  By 
his  permission  I  will  tell  the  story." 

This  was  consented  to ;  and  the  gentleman  began  : — 

"  Among  the  early  settlers  of  the  county  of  N ,  in 

the  state  of  New-York,  there  were  two  individuals  who 
had  emigrated  together  from  one  of  the  eastern  states. 
They  had  taken  up  lots  of  land  adjoining  each  other, 
and  resided  thereon  for  a  number  of  years  on  terms  of 


«<l 


THE  LAW  y EH  8  APOLOGY. 


195 


the  closest  intimacy  and  friendship.  Their  families 
were,  in  their  intercourse,  almost  as  one.  However, 
this  amicable  association  between  the  families  of  the 
two  settlers  was  doomed  to  have  an  end,  which  was 
brought  about  by  a  misunderstanding,  first  commencing 
between  some  of  the  younger  scions  of  the  two  houses, 
on  account  of  a  frivolous  matter  of  etiquette,  most  tri- 
vial in  its  bearing,  and  such  as  would  never  have  receiv- 
ed a  moment's  consideration,  had  the  parties  been  in  the 
same  condition  of  life  they  were  at  the  time  their  inti- 
macy commenced.  But,  as  it  was,  both  of  the  two  fa- 
milies by  dint  of  a  few  years  well  applied  industry,  with 
a  favourable  prosperity,  amassed  to  themselves  con- 
siderable little  properties ;  and  this  occasioned  the 
younger  members  to  assume  a  high  estimation  of  them- 
selves, and  their  consequence  in  the  community. 

"  Although  the  first  misunderstanding  was  but  a  little 
matter,  as  to  itself,  it  was,  nevertheless,  like  the  ripple 
of  the  waters  that  disturbs  a  calm  on  the  bosom  of  the 
ocean  and  precedes  the  tempest-wrought  waves — or 
like  the  spark  that  lighteth  a  great  fire,  as  it  proved  the 
commencement  of  bickerings,  which  soon  grew  into  a 
quarrel  and  inveterate  hostility  between  the  two  fami- 
lies ;  and  every  member,  even  to  the  head  ones,  were 
brought  to  participate  in  it — and  the  contention  at 
length  produced  a  vexatious  law-suit. 


fr!' 


'  '. ' 


y 


196 


THE  LAWYER  S  APOLOGY. 


"  The  ciiltivativation  of  their  lands  was  not  the 
only  source  from  whence  contributions  had  been  drawn 
by  the  two  settlers,  for  their  pecuniary  prosperity. 
Their  contiguity  to  the  borders  of  Canada,  enabled  them 
to  carry  on  extensive  smuggling  operations  with  success 
and  great  profit.  To  facilitate  the  surreptitious  trans- 
mission of  goods  to  and  from  Canada,  the  settlers  had 
conjointly  entered  upon  Navy  Island,  a  place  now  too 
well  known  to  need  description,  and  cleared  off  the  tim- 
ber from  ten  or  a  dozen  acres  of  the  soil,  on  the  eastern 
side  of  the  Island,  and  there  erected  a  log  cabin  under 
the  specious  pretext  of  accommodating  labourers  to  be 
employed  in  cutting  fuel — ^but  for  the  real  object  of 
forming  a  depot  of  goods  for  smuggling ;  and  in  a  little 
while,  their  cabin  was  filled  with  tea,  tobacco,  and  salt, 
which  articles  were  to  go  into  Canada,  duty  free;  and 
broadcloths,  rum,  and  refined  sugar,  which  were  design- 
ed to  come  into  the  United  States  on  like  free  and  liber- 
al terms. 

"  The  cabin,  which  in  its  exterior  looked  like  the 
abode  of  poverty  and  wretchedness,  had  all  its  apart- 
ments filled  with  valuables,  save  one,  and  in  this,  that 
the  cabin  might  not  be  suspected  to  be  more  than  the 
abode  of  misery,  they  installed  a  worthless  old  hag  of 
a  woman,  with  two  of  her  squallid  offspring — who, 
like  foul  birds,  were  allowed  to  hover  around  the  rich 


t 


i; 


THE  lawyer's  apology. 


197 


stores.  Although  the  settlers  used  their  depot  in  com- 
mon, there  was  no  partnership  in  their  transactions. 
But  on  the  contrary,  there  was  much  traffic  and  trade 
carried  on  between  them  ;  and  a  short  time  previous  to 
the  commencement  of  the  misunderstanding,  one  of 
them  had  brought  from  Salina  a  quantity  of  salt  and 
placed  it  upon  Navy  Island,  ready  to  be  run  into  Cana- 
da, whenever  occasion  and  advantageous  markets  should 
offer.  Of  this  salt  the  other  settler  purchased  of  him 
who  had  procured  it,  six  barrels,  for  the  stipulated  price 
of  four  dollars  and  fifty  cents  per  barrel.  The  bargain 
by  which  the  salt  was  transferred  was  in  this  wise  :  one 
barrel  taken  at  the  time  the  agreement  was  made,  was 
paid  for  down,  and  the  other  five  barrels  were  to  be  paid 
for  when  taken  away,  which  was  stipulated  to  be  done 
within  thirty  days  from  the  time  of  the  making  of  the 
contract — and  the  barrels  were  rolled  out  and  placed  in 
a  shed,  on  the  back  side  of  the  cabin,  from  whence  the 
purchaser  was  to  be  at  liberty  to  remove  them  at  his 
pleasure,  if  within  the  time  specified.  But  before  the 
thirty  days  had  expired,  it  so  happened  that  the  rupture 
took  place  between  the  two  families — and  then,  when 
he  who  had  bargained  for  the  salt  went  to  remove  it,  he 
was  forbidden  to  take  it  away  by  one  of  the  sons  of  his 
neighbour,  who  was  remaining  on  Navy  Island  as  agent 

and  store-keeper,  while  his  father,  like  Lambro,  Byron's 

R2 


I,  1 


!i1 

I 

I'M 


f 


us. 


198 


THE  lawyer's  apology. 


y 


f^ 


•!' 


sea  solicitor,  was  absent  on  an  expedition  in  the  British 
Morea  of  America.     The  purchaser  persisted  in  the  re- 
moval of  the  salt,  however,  and  as  soon  as  his  neigh- 
bour returned,  he  tendered  him  the  amount  of  the  pur- 
chase money,  according  to  the  price  agreed  upon.     But 
the  money  was  refused  by  the  other,  who  threatened 
him  with  an  immediate  prosecution  for  taking  the  salt. 
**  In  addition  to  the  inimical  feeling  then  recently  im- 
bibed, the  individual  had  another  motive  to  move  him 
to  the  course  he  then  pursued.     He  had  ascertained, 
wliile  in  Canada,  that  salt  had  there  risen  in  price,  with- 
in a  few  days,  from  four  dollars  and  fifty  cents,  to  ten 
dollars  per  barrel ;  and  it  was  woith  something  near 
that  sum  on  the  United  States'  side  of  the  waters.     It 
was,  also,  alleged  by  the  one  that  the  contract  for  the 
sale  of  the  salt  had  been  abrogated  before  it  had  been 
removed  by  the  other ;  and  he  who  held  the  salt  in  the 
first  instance  put  his  threat  of  prosecution  in  force  by 
the  commencement  of  an  action  of  trespass,  in  the  court 

of  Common  Pleas  of  the  county  of  N .     In  which 

suit  he  declared  for  the  taking  and  carrying  away 
by  the  defendant  of  the  five  barrels  of  salt  from  Navy 
Island. 

"  At  the  time  of  which  I  am  speaking,"  said  the  gen- 
tleman, "  our  friend  here,  and  myself,  were  practising 
law  in  the  county  of  N— — ,  and  were  members  of  the 


i 


THE  lawyer's  apology. 


199 


bar  of  the  honourable  Court  of  Common  Pleas  of  that 
county,  (which  was  common  enough,  as  you  must  know,) 
for  I  believe  you  are  acquainted  with  the  celebrated 
Farmer,  Shoemaker,  and  Tavern-keeper,  who  then  pre- 
sided in  that  court." 

I  admitted  I  was — and  I  must  now  take  the  occasion 
to  remark,  that  my  friend  had  been  celebrated  for  the 
possession  of  much  legal  acumen — had  acquired  con- 
siderable eminence  in  his  profession — and  withal,  was 
a  very  happy  fellow  in  company ;  although  he  carried 
in  his  manner  a  little  of  the  characteristic  of  the  times 

in  which  he  lived. 

"  I,"  continued  the  gentleman,  "  had  no  concern  in 

this  suit ;  but  our  friend  here,  who  then  bore  the  fami- 
liar cognomen  of  Techy ,  was  employed  to  defend. 

"  About  the  commencement  of  the  term  of  the  court,  at 
which  this  cause  was  to  be  tried,  the  plaintiff  in  the 
suit  had  succeeded  in  getting  over  from  Canada,  to  the 
New- York  side  of  the  Niagara  River,  a  considerable 
quantity  of  Jamaica  spirits  and  refined  sugar,  with  a 
supply  of  which  he  had  engaged  to  furnish  the  keepers 
of  the  public  houses  at  B — ,  for  court  week ;  and  know- 
ing the  propensities  of  the  judges  of  the  court,  on  the 
day  on  which  the  term  commenced,  he  sent  to  the  lodg- 
ings of  the  Farmer,  the  Shoemaker,  and  the  Tavern- 
keeper,  a  derai-john  of  his  Jamaica  spirits  with  a  loaf 


:;j  j 


200 


THE  lawyer's  apology. 


of  refined  sugar,  for  each.     As  you  might  be  sure,  itwas 
the  very  stuff  the  Shoemaker  and  the  Tavern-keeper 
wanted — and  knew  how  to  use  ;  and  though  the  Farmer 
said,  (as  it  was  reported,)  *  he  seldom  drank  anything 
himself,'  and  made  some  show  of  reluctance  in  accept- 
ing the  douceur,  yet  *  he  thought  the  rum  would  be  very 
useful  in  harvest — and  the  sugar  quite  acceptable  to  his 
wife,  as  she  had  had  no  loaf  sugar  in  the  house  for  a 
long  time.'     Refined  sugar  being  then  held  at  too  dear 
a  rate,  to  be  purchased  by  the  farmers  for  general  use. 
"  The  business  of  the  court  went  on  during  the  day, 
and  the  judges  had  their  jollification  at  night,  as  usual : 
and  in  due  time  the  suit,  which  our  friend  Techy,  was 
to  defend,  and  in  which  was  to  be  investigated  the 
title  of  his  client  to  the  five  barrels  of  salt  he  had  taken 
from  Navy  Island,  tortiously,  as  it  was  alleged,  came 
onto  be   tried.      When  the    cause    had  been   rested 
on  the  part   of   the  plaintiff.    Techy   rose  and  moved 
the  court,  in  behalf  of  his  client,  that  the  plaintiff  be 
non  suited.  The  points  he  raised  in  support  of  his  mo- 
tion, were — *  1st — that  Navy  Island,  the  place  where 
the  trespass  was  alleged  to  have  been  committed,  had 
been  proven,  by  the  plaintiff,  to  be  within  the  dominions 
of  the  sovereign  of  the  United  Kingdom  of  Great  Bri- 
tain and  Ireland — and  that  the  action  of  trespass  cannot 
be  maintained  in  our  courts  for  goods  taken  in  foreign 


)  i 


■i 


THE  lawyer's  APOLOGY 


201 


It  was 
keeper 
^armer 
y  thing 
ccept- 
e  very 

to  his 
3  for  a 
0  dear 
il  use. 
e  day, 
usual  : 
7,  was 
)d  the 

taken 

came 
rested 
noved 
iff  be 
s  mo- 
tvhere 
I,  had 
inions 
t  Bri- 
annot 
)reign 


countries  ;  and,  2nd — that  by  the  plaintiff's  own  show- 
ing, the  salt  in  question,  had  been  so  bargained  to  the 
defendant,  as  to  form  a  legal  justification  for  its  removal, 
and  that,  therefore,  the  action  of  trespass  de  bonus  as- 
portatis  could  not  be  maintained :'  and  Techy,  also  told 
their  honours,  *  that  if  the  plaintiff  had  not  been  paid  for 
his  salt,  and  sought  to  obtain  his  dues  from  his  client, 
he  must  bring  his  action  in  some  other  form.' 

"  *  That  leather  won't  work,'  ejaculated  the  Shoemaker. 

"  *  I  do  not  know,  sir,'  said  the  Farmer  judge,  *  what 
you  mean  by  your  trespass  the  barn  as  the  cart  is,  as 
you  call  it ;  but  I  can  tell  you,  sir,  I  do  know  that  when 
one  man  takes  another's  property,  and  carries  it  off,  he 
must  pay  for  it,  wherever  he  takes  it  from— or  else 
there  is  no  law  in  the  country !' 

"  *  It  is  so,  sir,'  said  the  Tavern-keeper,  *  as  sure  as 
rum  and  sugar  will  amalgamate.' 

"  With  this  descision  we  were  all  pleased.  But  Techy 
was  mad,  when  he  heard  the  court  rule  against  his  mo- 
tion for  a  non  suit — and  refused  to  go  any  farther  with 
the  defence — picked  up  his  papers  and  books,  and 
started  to  leave  the  court.  Then,  as  he  came  near 
me  to  take  his  hat,  he  said,  '  by  God,  I  believe  this 
court  can  be  bribed  for  two  quarts  of  rum,''  and  off  he 
walked.  The  remark  was  made  in  so  audible  a  tone 
that  it  came  to  the  ears  of  the  judges,  as  well  as  to  those 


'I- 


■il 


■0 


1  : 


11^ 


if'' 


y* 


202 


THli  lawyer's  apology. 


I.l 


f 


'-,1 


m 


tell'-. 


'¥' 


Q  . 

'& 
k 


i. ' 


of  every  individual  in  the  court-room.  On  hearing  this 
extraordinary  and  contemptuous  language  of  our  friend , 
the  people  were  astonished  ;  and  the  judges  were  con 
founded,  and  paralyzed  for  the  moment ;  but,  after  a 
short  consultation  together,  they  directed  the  sheriff  to 
bring  our  friend,  who  had  then  gone  out  of  the  room, 
back  into  the  presence  of  the  court ;  and  he  soon  made 
his  appearance  again  before  their  honours — and  was  told 
by  them  *  that  they  had  considered  the  language  he  had 
made  use  of  in  their  presence,  as  highly  indecorous, 
and  a  very  gross  contempt  of  court ;  and  that  while 
they,  the  judges,  were  not  disposed  to  proceed  to  ex- 
tremities with  him,  they  had  determined  that  he  should 
make  an  apology,  or  be  committed.' 

"  *  Oh,  then,'  said  Techy,  *  I'll  apologize  rather  than 
be  sent  to  prison.' 

"  *  Such  is  your  only  alternative,'  replied  one  of  the 
judges. 

"  The  fact  that  the  judges  had  received  a  donation  of 
rum  and  sugar,  had  become  known — so  that  the  gist  of 
Techy's  remark  had  been  comprehended  by  all — and  it 
was  most  probable  the  judges  would  never  have  ven- 
tured to  try  him  for  the  contempt ;  yet  Techy  deemed 
it  most  politic  to  apologise,  and  turning  to  the  bench, 
said :  *  your  honours,  I  admit  I  was  wrong  in  saying  that 


; 


THE  lawyer's  apology. 


203 


ring  this 
r  friend, 
ere  con 
,  after  a 
heriff  to 
le  room, 
on  made 
was  told 
s  he  had 
lecorous, 
at  while 
3d  to  ex- 
le  should 

ther  than 

ne  of  the 

onation  of 
he  gist  of 
11 — and  it 
lave  ven- 
y  deemed 
he  bench, 
lying  that 


this  court  could  be  bribed  for  two  quarts  of  rum,  and  so 
I  take  it  back.' 

"  Having  apologized  thus  much,  he  again  proceeded  to 
leave  the  bar  of  the  court.  As  he  was  going  out,  I  ac- 
costed him,  and  said,  *  well.  Techy,  they  brought  you  to 
an  apology,  did  they  ?  eh  !'  *  Oh  !  yes,*  replied  he, 
and  then  continued,  loud  enough  to  be  heard  by  the 
judges,  and  all  others  present,  *  but,  if  I  had  only  put  it 
at  a  gallon,  I'd  have  been  d — d  before  I  would  have 
taken  it  back !' 

"  His  reply  set  the  people  in  convulsions  with  laughter, 
and  during  the  confusion  consequent,  our  friend,  es- 
caped— and  I  believe  he  never  went  back  to  trouble 
the  judges  more — and  they  deeming  it  in  no  way  profi- 
table farther  to  interfere  with  him,  allowed  him,  in  peace, 
to  take  his  departure  for  this  state,  where,  I  believe,  he 
had  previously  made  up  his  mind  to  come.  Soon  after, 
I  concluded  to  follow — and  this  winter  I  found  our  friend 
in  the  legislature — where,  as  I  learn,  he  still  occasion- 
ally indulges  himself  in  his  former  propensity  of  furnish- 
ing the  means  for  a  loud  laugh." 

I  remarked  to  the  gentleman  who  related  the  story, 
(and  so  assured  my  friend,)  that  I  could  appreciate  any 
dislike  for  unlegal  judges — as  we  had  not  yet,  in  New- 
York,  run  through  with  the  whble  generation  of  them. 


If 


'*i 


k 


LAFAYETTE. 


% 


fil' 


I 


s'i 


Thou  mighty  chief!  thy  cloudless  fame 
Has  thrown  a  halo  round  thy  name, 
Kings  of  the  earth  shall  envy  thee  : 
Champion — brave — of  Liberty  ! 

When  the  minions  of  tyrants  thou  saw  first  invade 
The  American  shore — quickly  bared  was  thy  blade  ; 
Freedom  shrieked  for  assistance — the  eagle  flag  waved, 
Lafayette — ^he  was  there ! — and  our  country  was  saved, 

Columbians  boast  thee  ! — great  with  all ; 
By  crowns  revered — thou  pride  of  Gaul ! 
Loved  of  the  free — wast  ever  one — 
Companion-^friend — of  Washington. 

The  red  cross  it  waved  high  on  the  broad  river's  banks  ;* 
And  the  throng  of  the  foemen  were  deep  in  their  ranks  ;; 
Lafayette  led  the  charge — they  were  broken  and  fledy 
And  a  host  of  proud  Brittons  were  wounded  and  dead. 


I* 


*  Yorktown,  Va.,  where,  in  the  subjugation  of  the 
British  forces  under  Lord  Cornwallis,  Lafayette  distin- 
guished himself,  is  situated  on  the  banks  of  James'  River. 


i. 


LAFAYETTE. 


205 


ivade 
blade  ; 
ag  waved, 
was  saved. 


's  banks  ;* 
lieir  ranks ;; 
>n  and  fledy 
and  dead. 

ion  of  the 
rette  distin- 
mes'  River. 


The  tyrant  dead — the  Bourbons  gone, 
Freedom  ! — the  cry — prostrate  the  throne  ! 
But  anarchy  assumed  the  sway, 
And  deep  revenge  marked  out  her  way. 

Blood  flowed  from  the  guillotine — France  shook  with 

terror, 
Fierce  passions  ruled  there — all  was  madness  and  error : 
Thy  voice  cried  for  mercy — then — ^but  in  vain. 
And  gained  thee — at  Olmutz — a  cell  and  a  chain. 

A  century's  half — now  passed  away, 
Has  shown  full  many  a  battle's  fray 
On  Europe's  shore — both  lost,  and  won — 
By  the  first  great  Napoleon. 

Once  more  is  France  convulsed,  the  clarion  sounds  afar, 
Freemen  assume  their  arms — and  "  three  days  wage  a 


war : 


?> 


Lafayette  commands  again — behold  the  tyrants'  fall ! 
The  last  by  thee — the  best  and  brightest  deed  of  all. 


The  preceding  stanzas  were  composed  on  reading  an 
account  of  the  "  three  days  in  July" — the  success  of  the 
French  Revolution  in  1830 — and  the  appointment  of  the 
patriot  Lafayette  to  the  command  of  the  National  Guatda 

of  Paris. 

S 


lii 


L 


', 


.il! 


M 


m 

m 

\,  : 

IIPIPI  1 

tHsB 

'  IlKf  "  *.        ' 

rl^ 

HI 

Isf ' ' . 

11 

W-  * 

■  Hh 

III 

;. 

ill 

i 

^r-     j 

11 

1: 

i,  t 

11 

I 

ijll 

9 

i 

■i, 

p 

if 

lis 

t;   ' 

MM 

Iffl 

11';  1 

LUCK  AND  ILL   LUCK; 

OR,  WOMAN  WON   BY   GALLANTRY. 


There  is  perhaps  no  portion  of  the  continent  of  North 
America,  so  profusely  bcspottcd  with  small  lakes,  as 
the  peninsula  lying  between  Lake  Michigan,  which 
bounds  it  on  the  west,  and  Lake  Erie,  Lake  St.  Clair, 
and  Lake  Huron,  which,  together  with  the  rivers  form- 
ing the  chain  of  connecting  water  courses  between  those 
lakes,  and  the  outlet  of  Michigan,  form  its  bounds  on  the 
north  and  east,  and  in  which  is  comprised  the  principal  and 
only  settled  part  of  the  state  of  Michigan.  These  little 
lakes,  or  ponds  of  fresh  water,  are  found  scattered  over 
the  whole  interior  of  the  state,  spreading  out  in  every 
conceivable  variety  of  size  and  shape.  Some  of  them 
extending  to  nine  or  ten  miles  in  length,  with  a  breadth 
of  from  one  to  two  miles  ;  while  others  have  a  more 
circular  or  compact  form,  with  less  extent ;  and  many 
containing  an  area  of  no  more  than  a  few  acres. 

These  isolated  bodies  of  water  are,  in  general,  limpid, 
and  in  many  instances,  brilliantly  transparent.  They 
aboimd  with  a  great  variety  of  fish,  such  as  perch. 


LUCK  AND  ILL  LUCK,  &C. 


207 


TRY. 

It  of  North 
L  lakes,  as 
;an,  which 

St.  Clair, 
ivers  form- 
ween  those 
iinds  on  the 
'incipal  and 
These  little 
Lttered  over 
It  in  every 
ne  of  them 
h.  a  hreadth 
ive  a  more 

and  many 
res. 

jral,  limpid, 
3nt.  They 
.  as  perch, 


pickerel,  bass,  and  sun  fish — and  many  other  kinds 
of  the  finny  tribe  may  be  taken  from  them  in  abundance  ; 
and  although  their  shores  are  mostly  low,  and  without 
rocky  precipices,  steep  banks,  or  eminences  affording 
any  very  romantic  or  imposing  prospect — yet  they  give 
a  gratifying  diversity  to  the  face  of  the  country — and  fur- 
nish many  truly  delightful  building  sites,  which  have 
much  of  nature's  loveliness  and  pleasing  scenery  around 
them — and  some  of  these  sites  are  already  occupied 
with  splendid  mansions. 

In  the  winter  of  18 — ,  I  travelled  across  a  portion  of 

the  state  of  Michigan,  from  P to  A ,  in  a  private 

conveyance,  accompanied  by  a  gentleman  who  then  re- 
sided in  that  state.  The  road  on  this  route  passed  along 
the  shores  of  many  of  the  little  lakes  I  have  described. 
As  we  approached  one  of  them,  containing  an  area  of 
some  two  or  three  miles,  there  appeared  in  view  a  very 
handsome  wooden  mansion,  delightfully  situated  upon 
its  bank,  with  gardens,  orchards,  and  cleared  fields  of 
some  extent  surrounding  it. 

*^  A  delightful  situation,"  I  remarked  to  my  com- 
panion, "  and  a  happy  fellow  it  must  be,  that  enjoys 
such  a  lovely  portion  of  the  earth." 

"  He  is  all  of  that,"  was  the  reply ;  "  and  the  manner 
in  which  he  came  in  possession  of  it,  is  among  the  ex» 
traordinary  incidents  of  life." 


,  I' 


i 


A 


r 


, 


^os 


I 

I 


I 

1  1 

1  . 


I  s 


I  A  I 


n  I 
^1  ' 


I  > 


I 


LUCK  AND  ILL  LUCK  ; 


"  Pray  give  us  the  story,"  said  I ;  and  to  do  so  my 
companion  consented. 

"  It  is  now  twelve  years,"  began  he,  "  since  I  came 
into  Michigan.  This  county  was  then  an  entire  wilder- 
ness, affording  only  a  range  for  the  deer  and  a  hunting 
ground  for  the  Indian.  The  cabin  I  then  put  up  on  my 
lots  was  the  second  or  third  one  erected  in  the  county. 
A  few  months  after  I  had  got  it  up  and  moved  my  family 
into  it,  I  came  over  on  to  these  lots  for  the  purpose  of 
hunting  for  deer  along  the  shores  of  the  lakes,  and  while 
ranging  here,  I  fell  in  with  the  man  who  made  these 
improvements  and  built  this  house.  He  was  then  taking 
a  look  at  the  lots,  as  he  said,  with  a  view  to  enter  them 
— and  in  a  few  months  afterward  he  came  on  with  liis 
family,  which  consisted  of  a  wife  and  one  daughter,  and 
one  or  two  hired  men.  He  took  up  three  quarter-sec- 
tions of  land,  and  threw  up  a  little  cabin  near  where 
this  house  stands — and  his  clearings  were  made  to  spread 
out  in  every  direction,  until  they  became  in  extent  as 
you  see  these  improvements ;  and  then  the  log  cabin 
was  made  to  give  place  to  this  mansion.  Of  the 
man  but  little  was  known,  except  that  his  name  was 
Smith,  that  he  had  been  engaged  in  the  mercantile  busi- 
ness somewhere  at  the  east,  had  failed,  and  with  a  trifle 
saved  from  the  wreck  of  his  property  had  emigrated  to 
this  territory,  [now  state].     For  many  years,  this  situa- 


■.:^ 


OR,  WOMAN   WON  BY  GALLANTRY, 


209 


do  so  my 

;e  I  came 

e  wilder- 

a  hunting 

up  on  my 

le  county. 

my  family 

purpose  of 

and  while 

ado  these 

iien  taking 

3nter  them 

n  with  liis 

ighter,  and 

iiarter-sec- 

ear  where 

8  to  spread 

extent  as 

)  log  cabin 

.      Of  the 

name  was 

mtile  busi- 

dth  a  trifle 

nigrated  to 

this  situa- 


tion was  considered  n  mote,  and  Mr.  Smith  employed 
himself  so  n  flustriously  in  making  improvements,  that 
he  formed  but  a  very  limited  acquaintance  with  the 
people  who  settled  in  the  vicinity ;  and  just  as  he  had 
completed  his  house,  he  was  taken  ill  with  a  fever  and 
died  ;  leaving  his  wife  executrix,  and  she  and  his  daugh- 
ter sole  legatees  of  this  property.  The  girl,  at  the  time  of 
the  death  of  her  father,  had  got  well  in  her  teens — and 
was  in  person  of  more  than  ordinary  comely  appearance 
— and  soon  after  her  parent's  decease,  she  came  much 
in  notice  with  the  young  men  who  were  wanting  wives 
— as  well  as  good  farms. 

"  From  her  numerous  suitors.  Miss  Smith,  at  length, 
selected  one,  to  whom  she  plighted  her  hand,  and  the 
time  for  the  nuptials  was  fixed.  With  the  proposed 
union  of  her  daughter,  the  mother  was  well  pleased, 
and  made  every  possible  preparation  to  give  a  becoming 
entertainment  to  their  friends  on  the  marriage  occasion. 
Then,  the  wedding  day  arrived,  and  the  guests  were 
there.  It  had  been  arranged  that  the  intended  bride 
and  groom,  with  their  friends,  should  drive  down  to 

A ,  and  have  the  nuptial  ceremonies  performed  by 

a  clergyinan  residing  at  that  place,  and  then  return  to 
partake  of  the  wedding  supper  with  the  mother.  The 
girl  was  arrayed  in  her  bridal  dress,  and  at  the  hour  ap- 
pointed, was  handed  into  their  carriage,  and  seated  by 

S3 


I  ! 


I  v. 

i 


V 


i 


\\\ 


'     'i 


I   i] 


a^ 


^10 


LUCK  AND  ILL  LUCK  ; 


the  side  of  her  intended  partner — when,  as  they  were 
ready  to  drive  off,  the  young  man,  that  was  to  be  the 
happy  one,  put  his  horse  in  motion,  with  a  view  to  get 
into  the  road,  but  the  animal  became  frightened,  sprang 
off  from  the  track  and  down  the  bank,  with  his  head 
directed  toward  the  opposite  side  of  the  lake.  The 
young  man  sprung  upon  his  feet,  the  better  to  rein  in 
the  horse,  but  fell  out  of  the  carriage,  headlong  to  the 
ground — and  the  horse  plunged  into  the  water  with  the 
carriage,  which,  by  good  luck,  floated  like  a  skiff.  The 
girl  kept  her  place  in  the  carriage,  and  cried  for  help, 
but  no  help  was  given ;  while  the  horse  was  putting 
out  from  the  shore.  Such  was  the  situation  of  the  girl, 
with  the  horse  and  carriage.  The  intended  bride-groom 
had  picked  himself  up,  and  was  busily  occupied  in 
brushing  off  the  mud  from  his  person.  The  remainder 
of  the  company  had  dismounted  from  their  carriages, 
but  only  stood  looking  on,  as  most  people  do  who  go  to 
a  fire — for  the  water  was  cold,  and  none  of  them  seem- 
ed inclined  to  risk  their  lives,  or  to  hazard  the  de- 
struction of  their  dresses,  in  order  to  rescue  the  girl ; 
and  the  mother,  on  beholding  the  jeopardy  of  her  daugh- 
ter, had  become  almost  distracted  with  fright — ^when  a 
foot-traveller,  with  a  valise  in  his  hand,  made  his  ap- 
pearance in  the  road.  The  moment  he  beheld  the  girl 
in  her  dangerous  condition,  he  dropped  his  valise,  and 


> 


OR,  WOMAN  WON  BY  GALLANTRY. 


211 


ley  were 
o  be  the 
ew  to  get 
dj  sprang 
his  head 
e.      The 

rein  in 
ng  to  the 

with  the 
iff.     The 

for  help, 
IS  putting 
f  the  girl, 
ide-groom 
cupied  in 
remainder 
carriages, 
who  go  to 
lem  seem- 
d  the  de- 
the  girl ; 
ler  daugh- 
— when  a 
ie  his  ap- 
Id  the  girl 
alise,  and 


plunged  into  the  water  for  her  rescue ;  and  by  swim- 
ming, he  got  ncstr  the  head  of  the  horse,  and  seized 
hold  of  one  of  the  reins,  which  had  fallen  upon  a  piece 
of  ice  that  floated  along  with  it  and  kept  it  from  sink- 
ing. By  pulling  the  rein,  the  stranger  turned  the  horse's 
head  toward  the  shore  at  the  place  where  he  had 
plunged  in,  and  finally  succeeded  in  leading  him  out 
with  the  carriage,  and  placed  the  girl  upon  the  ground, 
safe  among  her  friends,  who,  with  her  lover,  were  truly 
rejoiced  at  her  safe  delivery  from  the  danger  in  which 
she  had  been  placed  ;  and  they  were  then  ready  to  ex- 
tend to  her  every  attention  that  could  be  offered. 

"  The  time  of  the  occurrence  of  these  matters  was 
late  in  November ;  the  weather  was  very  cold,  suid 
some  considerable  ice  had  been  formed  around  the 
shores  of  the  lake  ;  consequently,  the  stranger,  who  had 
rescued  the  girl,  found  himself  very  much  chilled  by 
the  drench  of  cold  water — and  then,  the  piercing  at- 
mosphere he  was  subjected  to.  The  mother,  who  was 
in  ecstacy  at  the  rescue  of  her  daughter,  invited  him 
immediately  into  their  house,  where  he  was  furnished 
with  dry  clothing  and  a  bed. 

"  The  carriage  of  the  intended  bride-groom  had  been 
injured  in  no  material  part,  and  after  everything  out  of 
order  had  been  replaced,  it  was  proposed  by  him  to  the 
intended  bride,  then  to  proceed  to  the  village  for  the 
consummation  oi  their  marriage.   But,  the  girl  positively 


f 


h'.i 


212 


LUCK  AND  ILL  LUCK  ; 


I'-j. 


refused,  saying — '  she  should  attend  to  no  nuptial  cere- 
monies, until  she  was  sure  that  her  deliverer  was  out 
of  danger  from  any  injury  he  might  have  received  from 
the  adventure' — and  no  urging  of  the  young  man,  back- 
ed by  his  friends,  could  induce  the  girl  to  proceed.  The 
mother  neither  entreated  her  daughter  to  go,  nor  did  she 
object,  but  left  her  to  decide  upon  her  own  course  ;  and 
the  company  were  dismissed — and  the  intended  bride- 
groom returned  to  his  home. 

<*  The  stranger,  who  was  something  less  than  thirty 
years  gentlemanly  in  manners,  and  of  prepossess- 
ing appearance,  was  found  on  the  morrow  to  have 
taken  a  fever,  and  to  bo  so  ill  that  the  attendance  of  a 
physician  was  required ;  and  it  was  then  discovered 
that  he  had  received  several  severe  bruises  from  the 
horse,  while  making  exertions  to  get  him  out  of  the 
water.  This  indisposition  of  the  stranger  continued  for 
a  number  of  days,  although  every  attention  and  care 
that  could  be  given  was  bestowed  upon  him  by  the 
mother  and  her  daughter. 

'*  During  this  time,  all  mention  of  her  marriage  with 
her  former  lover  was  forbidden  by  the  girl ;  and  she 
never  spoke  of  him  but  with  contempt ;  and  long  before 
the  stranger  had  recovered  from  his  illness,  it  was  whis- 
pered about  among  the  settlers,  that  there  had  been 
formed  a  reciprocal  attachment  between  him  and  Miss 
iSmith }  and  on  bis  final  restoration  to  health,  to  him 


OR,  WOMAN  WON  BY  GALLANTRY, 


213 


al cere- 
ivas  out 
ed  from 
n,  back- 
i.  The 
:  did  she 
rse ;  and 
d  bride - 

m  thirty 
)possess- 
to  have 
nee  of  a 
scovered 
from  the 
ut  of  the 
tinned  for 
and  care 
n  by  the 

iage  with 
and  she 
mg  before 
was  whis" 
had  been 
and  Miss 
ihttQ  him 


Miss  Smith  gave  her  hand  ;  and  he  is  now  the  master 
of  this  establishment." 

As  my  companion  concluded  his  story,  we  arrived 
near  the  door  of  the  house  where  was  the  scene  of  the 
adventure  he  had  been  relating.  The  road  passed  very 
near  the  door,  and  as  we  were  opposite,  a  gentleman 
came  out  and  walked  toward  us. 

"  That  is  the  happy  fellow,"  said  my  companion,  "  of 
whom  I  have  been  speaking." 

As  the  gentleman  came  up,  he  accosted  me  famil- 
liarly  by  name,  and  I  instantly  recognized  in  him  a  for- 
mer acquaintance.  Some  years  past  I  had  known  him 
in  one  of  the  eastern  cities  of  the  United  States,  as  a 
clerk  in  a  mercantile  house ;  then  as  a  merchant  in 
business  for  himself,  in  which  he  failed.  He  then  set 
up  an  office  as  a  broker  and  vender  of  lottery  tickets. 
But  his  luck  was  not  in  lotteries,  and  he  was  too  honest 
to  gain  by  the  business  of  a  broker,  and  consequently 
failed  the  second  time.  The  gentleman  had  then  taken 
his  small  wardrobe  in  a  valise,  and  started  to  seek  his 
fortune  in  the  far  west.  His  purse  was  a  very  light  one 
for  travelling ;  and  when  he  had  arrived  at  Detroit  it 
had  become  altogether  too  small  for  the  payment  of 
stage  fare,  and  so  with  his  valise  '  i  his  hand,  he  had 
started  from  Detroit  to  foot  it  across  the  country.  The 
rest  is  told. 


STANZAS. 


-I    t 

H 


n 


;^  ^i 


^i! 


i 


J. 

An  infant  slumbered  on  its  mother's  breast ; 

Most  lovely  'twas — and  cherub-like  in  form  ; 
And  as  the  fond  parent  its  clear  face  pressed 

With  her  sweet  lips — and  gave  it  kisses  warm, 
It  seemed  a  gem — all  perfect  and  all  blessed, 

Wrapped  in  the  purest  robe  of  earthly  charm  ; 
But  death  smote  it — and  in  that  very  hour, 
He  showed  its  beauty  was  a  fading  flower ! 

II. 

There  was  a  woman,  who  did  hearts  beguile ; 

For  she  was  all  of  splendour  that  is  known ; 
She  had  eyes  of  azure  and  lips  of  red — while 

Youth  lasted — and  grief  had  no  wrinkles  sown ; 
And  with  the  blushing  cheek  and  playful  smile, 

Mantled  the  brightest  graces — all  her  own : 
But  then,  she,  when  old  time  began  to  lower, 
Soon  found,  her  beauty  was  a  fading  flower ! 

III. 

And,  there  was  placed  above  the  common  crowd, 
A  man — most  noble,  and  of  high  renown ; 

He  was  decked  with  medals— ^and  as  he  bowed, 
They  gave  to  him  honour's  glorious  crown — 

And  called  him  great.     So  spoke  the  trumpet  loud- 
Till  a  new  favourite  came  and  put  him  down ! 

Thus  proving  honour,  in  spite  of  all  power, 

Like  glorious  beauty — a  fading  flower ! 


i 


TO  THE  FIRST  FLAKE  OF  SNOW 

Written  in  November. 


>rm; 

3d 

warm, 
ed, 
harm : 


ile ; 

►wn; 

bile 

3  sown ; 

jmile, 

wn: 

^er, 

r! 


crowd, 
n; 

owed, 
iwn — 
ipet  loud- 
down  I 
er. 


I. 
With  a  cloud  for  thy  cat, 

Thou  com'st  on  the  wind— 
From  lands  distant  and  far, 

Where  tliou  wert  confined. 
O'er  thy  track  no  command  is 

When  listing  to  stray ; 
From  the  peaks  of  the  Andes, 
Hast  thou  fled  away  1 
Or,  from  Greenland's  rugged  shore, 
Amid  the  whirlwind's  ceaseless  roar— 
From  cheerless  coast  of  Labradore, 
Come  thou,  to  climes  more  free,  to  soar  1 

II. 
When  the  landscapes  were  green, 

Oh  !  where  wast  thou  then  ? 
By  no  eye  could'st  be  seen — 

Away  from  my  ken : 
But,  now,  thou  com'st  forth 

With  clear  wings  of  light, 
On  the  breeze  of  the  north, 

Both  sparkling  and  bright. 


r  1 


i     1 


216  TO  THE  riRST  FLAKE  SNOW. 

A  fairer  gem,  no  eye  shall  see, 
With  brilliant  glow,  to  rival  thee  :        ; 
And  pure  as  maiden's  kne  can  be^ 
Thy  charms  are  blighted,  soon  as  she. 

III. 
O^er  mountains  and  seas, 

Now  far  from  thy  home — 

Through  the  frost  withered  trees. 

There  gayly  to  roam ; 

Like  a  p^ar  in  the  sky. 

Glistening  in  storm, 

is  displayed  to  the  eye, 

Thy  beauteous  form. 

But  ah !  how  soon,  thy  glory's  o'er  ; 

To  earth  but  touch — thou  aft  seen  no  more,, 

The  fate  of  all  that  came  before, 

Is  thiae- — "  to  fell  and  rise  no  more." 


THE  ENI^ 


,0. 


mm 


'^M^km^i 


'fea;'^-V'' 


ii^;4i' 


a; 


"H   t 


^jtfffi . 


m 


i>ts- 


-4  - 


1  «.>i  r  ,     11- 


iit. 


-ST- 


*fi 


f  1   '        ,!■    i 


■i  i* 


t 


.■=fv„s*»^..>'«  «-.:'^i  *;m»?,1'*«***»«««»A*«'' 


